Your Future, My Past, Our Present
by YaimLight
Summary: Season 6 AU. All they had was each other. Apart from their relationship, Sam and Dean's lives were one big mess and no matter how hard they tried, nothing they did seemed to matter. They were still on the run, fighting and bleeding for a world that didn't know they existed. But that was about to change: she was hunting the Winchesters and would stop at nothing to get them. Wincest
1. Prologue

A/N: okay so I don't own the rights to any of these people, though you know the usual; wish I did.

As always your comments are welcome, feedback wanted very much. I hope you like this it is a work in progress and I hope to do a chapter a week but I just started a new job so I may slack for the next few weeks.

All the best. From me.

Xoxo

It is our past decisions that make us who we are today. Though we shall never know our future selves, to know if these choices make us better men than we are now, we can only hope that no freak accident of nature should grant us the disservice of knowing what comes next.

**Prologue **

Rain poured from the heavens in thick grey sheets, the sky as black and uninviting as the deepest, darkest cavern the world had to offer. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the skyline as the bolts crashed down to Earth; thunder roared as it chased the lightning through the night sky. The strong north wind howled as it blew through the ancient forest, shoving the thick branches aside and stripping the leaves from the bark, whipping them high into the air as it went.

Amidst the chaos of the storm all else was still and silent. No animals ran through the undergrowth seeking shelter, no adventurous hikers sought a protected spot to wait out the storm for the night.

The storm raged fierce and all consuming, threatening to rip trees from the ground, roots and all. In a small clearing, miles from any road and any sign of human life, a bolt of lightning struck the muddy ground hard, chunks of earth flying high into the air with the force of the strike.

Thick, white smoke slithered its way from the impact crater, rising high into the air and snaking its way towards the bright full moon that could only just been seen as the dark grey clouds shifted. A high-pitched whine filled the air, so loud that it would make ears bleed, should someone be unlucky enough to hear it.

Halting its climb towards the heavens, the white smoke began to swirl into loose circles, slowly pulling itself in tighter, and tighter, until it formed a ball of pulsing, hazy light; hovering six feet off the ground. The air around it shimmered and crackled, distorted by the heat that surrounded the small ball of light. The ground beneath the orb began shaking, mud sliding over rocks and tree roots.

As quickly as it had all started, it stopped. The high-pitched whine faded away, the ground stilling until all that remained in the still raging storm was the glowing orb as it continued to hover unassumingly surrounded by the darkness.

With one last long pulse, the ball of light exploded outwards in a solid wall of blinding, white light; pushing out through the forest, stretching out for miles before turning back on itself. As it contracted back to where the orb had been, it blinked out of existence, disappearing as though it had never existed.

A clap of thunder shot through the sky, illuminating the now dark clearing and two lone figures that stood where, until moments ago, the ball of light had been; the figures' shadows stretched up towards the heavens.

Gasping for air, the young women collapsed to the ground, her knees sinking into the mud as she doubled over, a shaky hand coming up to clutch at her frantically beating heart. Beside her, her travelling companion glanced down at the woman, a confused look on his boyish face.

"Come, we don't have much time," he said, his rough voice cutting through the deafening noise of the storm as it raged around them. Slowly, he turned away from her, his eyes darting around the small clearing; surveying the area in which they found themselves, looking for something that only he could see.

Groaning, the young women at his feet slowly pushed herself up, looking down at her mud covered clothes in disgust. "You couldn't have dropped me off at Disneyland or, I don't know, somewhere sunny?" she mumbled, as she slung over her shoulder the duffel that had fallen to the ground, forgotten in the agony of them both falling back to earth.

"Disneyland would have been too open, and it's night," he replied, his voice level, indicating his misunderstanding that she had posed a rhetorical question. Starting towards the tree line to the left of them, the man ignored the exasperated eye roll and the small smile that tugged at the young woman's lips as she quickly turned to follow after him, wiping her muddy hands on her wet jeans as her feet slid on the saturated ground.

She caught up with him before he could make it more than a few long strides into the thick wood. She laced her fingers through his, tugging him forward, smearing mud over the back of his hand, and marring his perfect skin. The wind whipped her long chestnut hair around her, as she moved, almost dancing through the forest; twisting and turning as if she could see obstacles long before she came upon them.

Her companion never questioned where they were going, he trusted that she would always lead him in the right direction; she knew that he would always follow her no matter what. Sighing, she turned sharply; pulling him to the left and to what, she hoped, was a road and somewhere she would be able to hitch a decent ride. She hoped for something old, a classic, just like her dad's had been.

The man spoke, his voice rough and monotonous. "Your destiny..." he began.

"Bullshit," she interrupted, yanking her hand free of his tight grasp, pulling away from him and disappearing into the shadows, as she had been taught all those years ago. "I really don't remember this being part of the deal because I'm damn well sure I wouldn't have agreed to this shit".

Frowning at the spot she into which she had disappeared, the man stopped, seemingly unbothered by the rain as it soaked into his already dark hair, running off his trench coat and dripping to the muddy ground. He felt confused by the anger in her voice. They had been over this a thousand times before, he had been sure she had understood why this needed to be done, why they needed _her_ to do it.

"You must do this. If you don't, then there will be no hope…for any of us," he said. His voice soft, calming even. A rarity, she knew, when it came to him. His voice curled around her, soothing the panic she had begun to feel welling up inside of her. Despite his lack of humanity, he never failed to act the right way when it truly mattered, each rare occasion made her love for the older man grow that little bit more, each and every time.

He felt her presence before he saw her delicate frame slipping from the shadows to lean casually against a tree, just out of arm's reach, as if she did this sort of thing every day, as if it was normal for her and, he supposed, in a way it was.

Sighing, she looked at him with wide green eyes, silently judging him, weighing up her options. Her penetrating gaze never failed to make his skin itch, as if he could actually feel her hands on him. In those moments, he almost felt like caving in to all her suggestive comments and heated looks, through he would never admit it. His rules and boundaries were there for a reason, no matter how much it hurt to know that she would never truly be his.

"It's a good job God made your vessel pretty," she quipped, as she offered him her hand and jerked her head in the direction they had been heading, a sweet smile pulling up the corners of her full lips. With every step he took towards her, her green eyes darkened until they were as black as the night sky, her eye sockets becoming bottomless black pits of nothingness. "Come on," she said, "they're just a couple of miles up the road; I can feel the damn tension already."

Smiling, he laced his fingers through hers, pulling her slim body tight against his, and noticing the way she clung to him. Their bodies slotted together like well-used puzzle pieces.

Slowly, they moved apart and began to make their way through the forest again, never once letting go of one another, always touching in some way. They both knew the risks of being here, both knew what failing meant but, like most things in their lives, it needed to be done and it was down to them to fix things.

After what felt like days, but in reality was only a few hours, they stumbled out onto the side of an old-looking road that stretched on in both directions, disappearing into the trees. Gently slipping his hand from hers, the man turned to face his young travelling companion, gazing down at her with determination in his eyes.

"This is where I leave you," he said. "It is up to you now."

Sighing, she ran a shaky hand through her dripping hair, shoving it out of her face. "Jeez, no pressure then," she huffed, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she turned to look north, her black eyes seeing easily through the rain and trees, zeroing in on the faint pulse of the one thing for which she was willing to risk everything, including the small shred of happiness for which she had fought so hard and risked so much to protect.

She hoped she could do this. She knew she didn't really have that much of a choice in the matter but that wasn't important, not now anyway. She had been training for this moment her whole life, ever since she had started dreaming of a time that was not hers. Given how they both lived, it shouldn't seem like such an impossible task he was asking of her, yet the idea of him abandoning her in an alien place, after having his presence as the one constant in her life for the last twenty years, made her want to wrap her arms around him and dig her nails in, refusing to ever let go.

Sensing her apprehension, the man in front of her quickly sought to ease her troubled mind. Gently, he placed his hand under her chin, using the slightest pressure to turn her head back to face him. As their gazes met, the blackness of her eyes started to recede until they were once again a deep, emerald green.

She seemed so lost and scared as she looked up at him, waiting for him to brush all her troubles aside. She looked so much like the little girl he had first met, all those years ago, standing in the doorway of the place she called home; watching her terrified parents pack up everything that they thought a necessity before they disappeared into the night, leaving him to watch over their most precious possession.

Just like that heartbreaking night, the man pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight embrace. However, _this_ time he didn't promise that everything would be fine because he knew it was something he would never be able to guarantee, not with everything that had happened and could _still_ happen. It was all down to her whether or not they made it back and whether or not the place to which they returned was the home it had once been or whether it would continue to be the barren wasteland it now was. It was her job to save them, even if she didn't want it to be. As much as she tried to fight it, it had to be her, always.

Sighing, she sucked in a deep breath to surround herself with his scent, as she savoured the feel of his body against hers, knowing that, once she left, she would never experience this again, unless she completed her seemingly hopeless task.

Pulling back just enough so she could take one last look at the man in front of her, she tried her best to act as normal as she could. She flashed him her most seductive smile, the one that always managed to get her what she wanted, whether she was asking for a kiss or your soul. The one he always told her off for using on the young men at church.

Frowning disapprovingly down at her, her companion shook his head slightly in disbelief, though he could feel his heart swelling with gratitude at the small mercy she was offering him. He was glad that the last thing he would see of her would be her smiling face, her green eyes sparkling with the mix of lust, love, and mischief that he was so used to seeing, because if she failed this would be the last moment he ever had with her; his last chance to tell her.

Leaning forward, the man sealed his lips over hers in a chaste kiss, his hand slipped from under her chin to cup her cheek in a tender gesture of love that he had seen his brother make a thousand times before and which had always left her smiling so sweetly.

Her lips were soft and moved with a well-practiced ease against his clumsy and inexperienced ones, something that both gladdened and disappointed him. Kissing her was something he had imagined doing for so long but had always denied himself. However, now that he had her for only a few moments more, and could feel her hot breath on his lips, he understood why humans were always striving for physical connection; why it meant so much to them to feel someone else's arms surrounding them.

Pushing his lips a little harder against hers, he wished they could stay this way a little longer. He wished that this was the only moment that mattered in the world and that this wasn't their first kiss and their last kiss goodbye all rolled into one.

But, all too quickly, she was pulling away from him as the sound of a car engine reached their ears, cutting through the noise of the rain. Reluctantly, he let his hand fall from her cheek and took a step back into the shadow of the woods just as she stepped away, out onto the road, to get the driver's attention.

Her companion already missed the heat that had radiated from her body and seeped into his, soothing the guilt and self-hatred that tainted his thoughts and made him second-guess every decision.

Neither of them said a word but they held each other's gaze, saying their goodbyes in the only way they had ever known. Everything that had gone unspoken between them over the years hung in the air, threatening to break from whoever proved to be weakest first.

The car's tyres screeched on the wet surface of the road as the driver hit the brakes, desperately trying to avoid hitting the young women who had stepped out into the middle of the road. Her hidden companion watched with a mixture of pride and guilt as the young women slipped into character as effortlessly as she breathed, spouting apologies and excuses. He had made her that way.

The young driver leaned across the passenger seat to get a better look at the rain-saturated woman. Leaning against the car's door, she fed him a false story, telling him that she had been hiking when the storm hit, that she had gotten lost and just needed a ride to the nearest motel. The driver didn't seem to notice she was wearing cowboy boots or that she looked like she had just stumbled out of a rock concert, his eyes were firmly rooted to her chest.

The young man nodded eagerly, pulling on the door's handle so that it swung open, creaking slightly. Thanking him, she flashed him her most charming smile - the smile that never failed to make all the boys bend to her will, her travelling companion included - before she slipped into the passenger seat slamming the door behind her. As quickly as the car had come round one corner it was speeding off around the next, disappearing from sight. And, just like that, she was gone.

One step closer to her destiny and already more than a hundred away from him because it didn't matter if she was successful, or if she failed, for she would be changing the future one way or another and there was no guarantee she would be going home to him, at least not the version of him she had spent her life with anyway. That is, if she made it home at all.

The man knew well what happened to people who got too close to the Winchesters. It was possible to count on one hand the number of people who had survived to tell the tale and, thanks to magic or post-traumatic stress, only half of them could even remember ever meeting the Winchesters in the first place. And here he stood, having just sent the one person he cared for, more than life itself, to get as close to them as possible.

Turning his back on the long stretch of road, he began the long trek back into the woods, truly alone for the first time in years. His heart sank with every step he took, loss and regret weighing heavy within his very core. He really should have told her that he loved her, now she would never know.


	2. Something Wicked This way Comes

A/N: again don't own a thing. Hope you like this one, got some smut in it though bad Cas doesn't know how to knock. As always your comments are much appreciated. Thanks again to Ciar who is working through this to beta it. Hope you are all having a lovely day.

All the best love me.

xoxo

**Something Wicked This Way Comes**

Slamming the motel room door, Dean flung his duffel onto the bed nearest the door, and shrugged off his wet jacket. A dark puddle of filthy water was already forming on the cheap carpet where he stood, turning the puke green a deeper darker shade of vomit.

Dean hated nights like this. Bad weather always made hunts that much harder and made him regret leaving his baby out in the open. His tired mind toyed with visions of waking up and finding the Impala gone; lifted up and carried away by the strong winds outside, only to be found three towns over and sticking out from the side of a barn. Dean shook his head to shake off both rain and unpleasant mental images.

'Sammy?' Dean hollered, as he began to remove his sodden clothes, stripping off his shirts and struggling to peel the wet cotton from his damp skin before starting on the unpleasantness involved in pulling off soaking wet jeans. His numb fingers fumbled with the wet and muddy material, hopping from one foot to the other as he tried to yank the denim off over his boots.

'Hey, man. What's u...ugh, Dean…really?' Poking his head around the side of the bathroom door, Sam made a face of disgust at the sight of his half-naked brother hopping around, dripping blood and dirty water on the carpet, as he stumbled around, yanking at the frayed ends of his jeans. 'Really? You couldn't wait till you got in the bathroom?' Sam asked; his voice strained. 'At least take your damn boots off before you try pulling off your jeans, Dean, ' Sam added, exasperated with his brother's antics.

Flashing his younger brother his biggest, cheesiest grin, Dean let out a cry of triumph as he managed to yank his left foot free of his pants' leg, wincing slightly as the denim rubbed over the gash on his ankle, given to him when the ghost they had been hunting had managed to strike back before being sent, screaming and struggling, to its rest.

'Dude, it's pissing buckets out there,' Dean shot back at Sam, 'but, hey, if you'd rather I track mud all over the place I'll remember that for next time. Now, get your girly ass out the bathroom so I can have a shower.'

Dean's wet jeans hit the floor with a loud thud as he finally managed to pull them free of his damp skin. He hated wet denim; it was heavy and clung to you wherever it could. Over the years, he had spent more nights clawing this stuff off his own body than he had peeling off someone else's clothes and that was just a depressing thought. Though, he supposed he should count himself lucky that it was just muddy water and a little bit of blood; he had been covered in a lot worse before, and some of it more recently than he would have liked.

Glaring down at his mud-covered boots, Dean wished he could just will them off. He really didn't have the energy to be bending down and fiddling with laces. His fingers were numb, his mind and body already slowing down and heading towards sleep after expending so much energy trying to avoid severe injury at the hands of an angry ghost. All he wanted was a hot shower, and to sleep for at least twenty hours, and then pie, lots and lots of the nearest pie he could get his hands on.

Sighing, Dean leaned back against the motel room door, the cold wood making his already cool skin tingle, his damp boxer shorts clinging to him like a second skin. An exasperated sigh pulled him from his thoughts and Dean's head lifted, remembering that he wasn't alone and irritated with himself that he had forgotten Sam was watching him. Dean always tried, as best he could, to hide exhaustion and pain from Sam's much too perceptive gaze. The habit had started when they were children and Sam became distraught when his big brother was hurt. Over the years, the act had become as much a part of Dean's behaviour as breathing: something he did without thinking about it.

Mentally pulling himself together, Dean made a grin spread across his face as he watched Sam close the bathroom door and begin to walk towards him across the small room. Dean knew from Sam's body language, what that meant, knew from Sam's intense expression what his younger brother had in mind and, despite Dean's wet and tired state, he could get on board with that. Hell, parts of him were already beginning to perk up with interest. Sometimes, the joy of still being alive, and relatively unhurt, after a hunt made the brothers want to revel in that fact. And, more often than not these days, those strong feelings got expressed physically. Of course, Sam still liked to try and get Dean to talk about his feelings but Dean was getting better at distracting Sam from talking and, instead, getting Sam to express those feelings with his body (and Dean's).

Sam moved with a grace that was unusual for a man of his height but for a Winchester it was second nature. Dean smiled as the idea of Sam slinking like a large cat popped into his mind. Sam's eyes never left Dean's, holding his gaze and, despite the trust he had in his brother, Dean couldn't help but almost feel that somehow, in the last few seconds, he had gone from being a hunter to being the thing that was hunted. Sam smiled lazily at Dean; his eyes darkening as he reached his brother, standing close but without touching, his hot breath fanning over the still cool skin of Dean's cheek. Dean's felt warmth begin to spread through his chest as he pulled in a deep, shaky breath, his eyes never leaving Sam's as the younger man sank to his knees slowly, only just missing the dampness in the patch of carpet on which Dean was standing.

The brothers held eye contact as Sam's warm fingers wrapped around Dean's right ankle, pulling gently until Dean raised his foot slightly, bending his knee. Sam's fingers deftly untied the knots and loosened the laces to allow him to gently tug the mud-covered boot free of Dean's foot. Dean's damp sock quickly following, as Sam yanked it off.

Dean licked at his suddenly dry lips, his body humming with anticipation. With them both working hard to gank the angry spirit, it had been a good few days since he had had Sam in any way other that a quick kiss here and there, or a prolonged cuddle in the mornings when he woke up wrapped around Sam's body; pretending to still be asleep so he could have that physical contact for just that little bit longer.

Despite the shiver running through his chilled body, Dean could feel his skin heating up, reacting to Sam's proximity and what it promised, his half hard cock tenting the damp fabric of his boxers. Sam's smile turned into a smirk as he leaned forward slightly so he could reach Dean's other foot, his hot breath fanning over his older brother's crotch, making Dean's cock twitch at the familiar feeling.

Groaning, Dean's head fell back against the door with a dull thud, his blunt nails scratching at the cheap plywood. Taking a deep breath, Dean tipped his head forward and gazed down at his younger brother. He considered just shoving Sam to the ground and stripping off his brother's clothes so he could have his wicked way with him, hard and fast on the motel room floor, or, seeing as he was feeling tired and in need of comfort, he could bite his lip and just let Sam continue this slow torture, building up Dean's excitement until he couldn't take it anymore.

Hissing, Dean arched off the door slightly as Sam's fingers touched lightly along the cut on his ankle. The slight pain adding a little something more to Dean's pleasure that he was sure he had never told Sam about but, like always, his little brother had managed to find out about all on his own.

Dean's boot hit the far wall with a dull thump as Sam threw it over his shoulder. His rough hand curled around Dean's ankle and slid up over the damp skin, his fingertips tickled the skin at the back of Dean's knee as his hand made its way higher towards the edge of his brother's wet boxers. Dean clenched his jaw, and groaned deeply, as Sam's short nails scratched gently at his thigh; Sam's fingers wiggled against the damp cotton, pushing it up until his hand could slide underneath the wet material. A chant of 'yes' and 'more' rang in Dean's head as he silently begged Sam not to stop.

Dean's eyes closed, he was vaguely aware that Sam was laughing gently - and Dean knew that he had just lost some sort of game to his brother, one he hadn't even been aware they were playing - but as Sam's other hand started to mirror its partner's action on Dean's other leg, Dean couldn't bring himself to care. Dean began to lose himself in the sensation of Sam's hands on him, around him. Sam's hot hands caressed his brother's cool flesh and Sam's thumbs rubbed slow, teasing circles into the tense muscles of Dean's upper thighs, tantalisingly close to where Dean most craved his brother's touch.

Moaning, Dean slowly opened his eyes to look hungrily down at his younger brother, the sight that greeted him made his quickly beating heart race even faster. Sam's cheeks were flushed, his lips were plump, and glistening with spit, just begging to be kissed, sucked into Dean's mouth and nibbled on, Sam's hazel eyes were hooded, his pupils wide with lust. Sam looked absolutely wanton and Dean wanted to sink to his knees, amongst the dirt and filth of their lives, and make his Sammy call out until his throat was raw and his body spent, until he too exhausted to even pull himself onto the bed to bask in the afterglow.

Sam's tongue poked slowly out from between his lips, slicking them with saliva before darting back inside his tempting mouth. Dean was strongly tempted to dive forward and follow it, shoving his own tongue past Sam's lips and into the familiar warmth of his brother's mouth, sucking on Sam's tongue until he made the sound Dean loved, the one that was somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and that never failed to make Dean even more hungry for the younger man.

Growing increasingly unable to tolerate the slow, torturous pace that his brother was setting, and as his desperation for more grew, Dean growled and shoved a hand into Sam's long, soft hair, grabbing and pulling; yanking Sam up and in, until his face was just inches away from Dean's achingly hard dick.

Sam's initial hiss of pain transformed into a groan of pleasure as the tip of his nose brushed against the outline of his brother's cock; the inescapable evidence of Dean's desire. The force of Dean pulling on his hair made Sam's grip on Dean's thighs tighten to keep his body from slamming into his older brother's legs.

'Sammy…oh, fuck…please…' Sam's name fell from Dean's lips sounding somewhere between a plea and a warning all at once, Dean's hips pushed against Sam's iron grip, desperate to bridge the small gap and finally feel his brother's soft lips wrapped around him as he sank into that tight, wet heat.

Dean tightened his grip in Sam's hair, even though he knew that it had to be hurting by now, and that Sam would make him pay for it later but, as Sam finally moved his hands to curl his fingers around the waistband of Dean's boxers, Dean found himself unable to care. He would deal with any consequences later and, he was pretty sure, ten seconds from now whatever consequences happened would be worth it because Sam had one hell of a talented mouth, all those years of learning Latin good for something other than yanking demons.

'Good, you're both awake.'

Quicker than you could say 'hell, no' Sam's hands were gone, they yanked free of Dean's boxers as Sam spun round at the sound of the intruder, his hands dropping to the back of his jeans, to pull his gun free, as he turned to face the threat.

Just as quickly, Dean jerked his hand out of Sam's hair, reaching instinctively up to the small of his back, where his gun had been just a few minutes ago, only to remember that he had shoved the gun into his duffel once they had made it back to the motel.

Sam's chagrined laughter pulled Dean back from his momentary lapse of awareness, kicking himself for being so stupid, just in time to see Sam slip his gun back into his waistband and push up onto his feet, the muscles in his legs straining with the effort.

Tired and confused as to what the hell was going on, Dean looked up from where his brothers' head had just been and towards where their unexpected visitor now stood, in front of the closed bathroom door. Confusion instantly gave way to resentment as his eyes landed on the trench coat-wearing, implacably, serious angel that had once again managed to cock-block him. Whether it was intentional or not had yet to be seen.

Glaring at the angel, Dean shoved himself away from the motel room door and headed towards the bathroom. Dean made a point of ignoring Castiel and squeezing roughly past the angel's sombre-looking vessel, making his way into the bathroom, ever hopeful that today would be the day that the unsmiling angel would learn something about human manners and would blink back out of the motel room so that Dean could drag Sam into the shower with him and damn well finish what Sam had started.

Unfortunately, it seemed that no one had sent Sam the memo because the next thing Dean heard was the ever-helpful puppy, that was Sam, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, closest to the door, and asking, 'What's up, Cas?' Dean could tell from his brother's tone of voice that Sam's full attention was now focused on the angel.

Groaning, Dean's grip on the bathroom door tightened, as he contemplated just getting in the shower and pretending the other room didn't exist. Yes, by taking a shower, Dean might be risking a glare or two, and the cold shoulder, from Sam, for failing to jump to attention when Castiel called. Then again, Dean definitely wouldn't be getting any tonight or tomorrow, maybe not even for a few more days, because the angel more than likely had a job for them. Sam was way too earnest lately about paying attention to the needs of others when trouble reared its head - probably because he felt guilty about the way he had treated people when he had been wandering around topside without a soul - and Castiel wouldn't be offended anyway if Dean ignored him, so why did it matter? In the end, it mattered because Dean could never bring himself to not care if there was a chance that the rest of the world, or more importantly Sam, might be in danger.

Dean shoved himself away from the bathroom door, walked briskly across the room, and threw himself face down on the unoccupied bed, his need to make sure that nothing nasty was coming after them, to threaten Sam, outweighing his need to be anywhere else but in Castiel's presence at the moment.

'I need your help, Dean.' Castiel's rough, monotone voice echoed around the room.

'Course you do,' Dean mumbled, as he turned his head to stare at his brother. Sam shot him a warning glare before turning his attention back to Cas.

Sighing, Dean turned his head further into the pillow, drinking in the smell of Sam: earth and sweat and books, and something that Dean could only describe as pure Sam. Smiling mischievously to himself, Dean shoved his right hand under his body, watching through half-closed eyes as Sam's gaze flickered in his direction as Dean's movement caught Sam's eye.

Dean knew it wasn't his most sensible decision to be doing this in the angel's presence but, right at that moment, Dean was tired, hurt, resentful for being considered as 'on duty' 24/7 for the last number of months, angry at Castiel's lack of consideration, and still so damned horny he really couldn't bring himself to care. And, anyway, it was Castiel's own fault if he saw something that he didn't approve of; the angel shouldn't just pop in on people like he did because, one day, Dean and Sam were going to be doing something a lot worse than what they had almost been doing, and Dean really didn't think that Cas wanted to see his naked ass.

'Something has ripped a hole through time,' Castiel stated, baldly. The angel's normal voice was always sombre but, currently, he sounded as serious as the grave.

Dean's head shot up off the bed as soon as Castiel stopped speaking; his previous idea, for teaching their heavenly gatecrasher some manners, instantly chased away by what the angel had said. 'I'm up,' Dean announced, pushing himself up and round till he was sitting on the end of the bed, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees almost mirroring Sam exactly.

'How is that even possible?' Sam asked, staring intently at the angel; disbelief and confusion evident in his voice. Sam's forehead creased as he tried to think of all the creatures, monsters, gods, and mythical entities that he knew of with enough power to even remotely pull this kind of thing off.

Moving to stand at the bottom of the gap between the beds, Castiel flickered his stern gaze between the brothers. A small flash of something, that might possibly be described as discomfort, lighting his blue eyes, briefly, as they quickly moved over Dean's mostly-naked and still slightly aroused form.

'I do not know,' the angel replied, shades of vexation in his voice. 'The amount of power it would take to work a spell like that is unheard of.'

Dean shot Sam a worried glance before rolling his shoulders and fixing Castiel with his best '_you better be telling me the whole truth or I will break your face' _look. Dean took a deep breath before speaking, 'You mean to say that something just ripped a _hole_ through time and you don't have a clue what it is. How is that even possible?' Dean's voice came out much harsher than he intended, his anger and annoyance getting the better of him, but the only person it seemed to bother was Sam.

Twisting his upper body round, Sam levelled a hard stare at Dean, raising an eyebrow at him expectantly.

'What?' Dean mumbled, sheepishly, knowing Sam probably expected him to apologize to the angel, for the tone of his outburst, but refusing to on principal.

Dean watched Sam roll his eyes and sigh in frustration before turning his attention back to Cas, ready to question the angel on whatever new threat that the universe was throwing their way. 'What do you need?' Sam asked, already sounding 100% committed to doing whatever was required of him.

Dean had to fight the urge to groan at Sam's well-intended question. He knew that Sam was still hung up on making amends for _'causing the apocalypse and setting the devil loose on the world_' but Dean was surprised Sam hadn't figured out yet that saying something like that to Castiel was going to end up with them being dumped into a big barrel of heavenly crap.

Before Castiel could even answer, Dean was pushing himself off the bed and hauling his tired body across the room to the small kitchenette table and the duffel that held all his clothes.

'I need you to go to the impact site,' Castiel pronounced.

'Impact? This thing _impacted _with the Earth?' Dean turned as the angel said the word 'impact', eyes wide, a clean pair of jeans clutched tightly in his hands. 'Are we talking like asteroid-type impact? With craters and dust clouds?' he asked, his face showing his concern, his eyes darting to look at his younger brother.

Sam's hand shot up to rub at his tired eyes before slipping up to push his hair back. He looked as worried as Dean felt. Something that could just rip through time, like a kid tearing through wrapping paper to get at the present inside, wasn't going to be your standard demon. This would take time, effort, and research, lots of it and for Cas to be asking for their help, it had to be bad.

'I don't know, Dean, that's why you need to travel to the location,' Castiel replied.

'Better put clean pants on then,' Dean quipped, with gallows humour, before grabbing a shirt out of the bag and heading towards the bathroom, deciding to change in there to spare the angel any latent potential for blushes, just this once more. Not that Dean was even remotely hard any more.

Castiel had obviously decided that further explanation was no longer required because he stood in place, without further comment, while Dean walked past him towards the bathroom. Dean heard the bed groan, as Sam stood up, but chose to ignore it, knowing that his brother was getting up to repack the duffel that had been abandoned on the bed behind him, making sure that whatever Sam thought they might need for the night ahead of them was at the top, for easy access in an emergency.

As Dean hand curled around the bathroom door handle he stiffened, not expecting to feel Sam's large, hot, hand wrapping around his wrist, Sam's hard chest pressing tight against his back as Sam crowded into Dean's personal space. Irritation pulsed inside of him, pushing against his skin at the thought that he hadn't heard Sam coming up behind him, hadn't known Sam was there until his brother touched him.

'I don't care if the world is about to explode,' Sam murmured quietly, mouth close to Dean's ear, his breath hot on Dean's neck, 'next time he just decides to pop in, I'm not going to stop.' Sam's voice was deep and rough, nothing more than a whisper as he pushed his crotch firmly against Dean's ass, Sam's half-hard dick straining against the tight confines of his jeans.

Closing his eyes tightly, Dean had to fight the urge to demand that Sam carry on with it now, angel and time-jumping_ thing_ be damned but, before he could get the words out, Sam was pressing a quick kiss to the sensitive skin behind Dean's right ear before letting go of Dean and walking away just as quickly and silently as he had appeared.

Dean stood frozen in place for a few seconds, his mind not processing anything past the sensations Sam had caused in his body and now, before everything caught up with him, reality crashed in on him like a wave of cold water. Growling low in his throat, knowing that Sam was bound to hear his frustration, Dean yanked the door open and slipped inside the dark bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Leaning back against the cold wooden door, Dean looked down at his re-tented boxers and his throbbing dick that was demanding attention, preferably Sam's. Closing his eyes, Dean took a deep breath and shoved his hand down his boxers, wrapping his fingers around the hot, hard flesh, a satisfied hiss of pleasure escaping from between his lips at the first rough jerk of his hand. Dean knew they didn't have long before they had to leave, the lack of time to indulge himself making him twist his wrist on the firm, upward stroke. Dean gasped at the sensation and let his mind wander to helpful memories, remembering how Sam felt around him. How Sam liked to push his hard body against Dean's side, filling his brother's personal space and only just giving Dean enough room to breathe. His face so close that the only thing Dean could see was Sam's hazel eyes staring at him, intently, filled with a hunger that made Dean's skin tingle and his heart swell.

Dean groaned, as he remembered the feeling of his brother's passionate touches, and his head fell back, hitting the door, his back arching away from the wood as he tightened his grip a fraction more. He hated that it wasn't Sam's hand wrapped around him, hated that as soon as Castiel had appeared he was the one who had all Sam's attention, particularly hated it because the angel was fucking incapable of appreciating how fortunate he was to be the focus of any of Sam's interest, really hated that he was jealous of an asexual angel of God just because he was with Sam right now while Dean wasn't.

Biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, Dean deliberately banged his head against the door, reminding the two men in the other room that, although Dean was out of sight, he damned well better not be out of mind, especially not Sam's mind. His head throbbed a little, the back of his skull having taken more abuse over the last day then it had in over a month.

Moving his hand faster across his length, jerking his hips and pushing his ass against the firm pressure of the door behind him, chasing the wave of bliss that accompanied the blinding white heat of a truly satisfying orgasm, Dean hoped the last few minutes in Castiel's Sam-distracting, cock-blocking presence were not a sign of what the next few days was going to be like, because Dean wasn't sure if he was going to be able to last the week if it was.

By the time they reached the clearing to which Castiel had directed them, the stormy weather had mostly cleared. The rain was nothing more than a persistent drizzle now and the wind had died down to a gently gusting breeze. The ground around them resembled more of a swamp than an actual forest floor, and, every so often, Dean cussed under his breath as his feet slipped and slid when he tried to step over fallen branches and exposed roots and, on one occasion, something that looked suspiciously like the remains of a human leg.

Finally stumbling into the clearing, Dean sighed in relief, rubbing his dirty hands over the thighs of his jeans in a pathetic attempt to try and get some of the mud off. 'Oh, thank God,' he gasped. Dean was a fit man but the muscles in his legs burned, he and Sam had spent the last three hours traipsing through the densely packed woods because of Dean's refusal to fly in any way, shape or form, angelic blipping from place to place included, and in all honesty he was starting to regret declining Castiel's offer to drop them here before the angel disappeared to try and follow whatever trail the unidentified being was leaving behind. Not that Dean would admit his change of heart to Sam.

The relief Dean had been feeling, at finally being free of the oppressive closeness of the surrounding trees, quickly left him as his searching eyes landed on the crater in the middle of the clearing, The hole was more than big enough for Sam to lay down in comfortably and then have a little extra, to spread out and roll around in, to boot.

'Cas wasn't kidding when he said impact site,' Dean remarked. He didn't know whether to be more scared or amazed as he stared at the big hole in the earth. Slowly, the brothers started to walk around the crater; by unspoken agreement, both heading in the opposite direction to cover distance more quickly. Dean's eyes darted over the impact hole, looking for any sign that something had been there and left some spoor that they could use to track it, whatever_ it_ was. But the rain had been heavy and the sides of the crater were nothing more than smooth, slick slopes of mud. No evidence left to show that anyone, or anything, had been there for days, let alone in the last few hours.

He was just about to yell at Sam that they were wasting their time, when the younger man called out Dean's name, beckoning him over to where Sam was crouched down, balancing on the edge of the crater. In a few quick strides, Dean was sinking down next to him, his knee bumping against Sam's in the process.

'Is it me or does that look like a hand print?' Sam asked, as he waved a hand vaguely towards a large rock that was jutting out of the side of the crater, turning his head to raise an eyebrow expectantly at Dean. Leaning forward slightly, Dean grabbed Sam's thigh with one hand to keep his balance as the other shot out to gently run his fingers over the face of the rock.

Dean's fingers slipped into the grooves, following the dips until his hand was pushed flat against the stone. His own hand didn't fit perfectly into the mark, which seemed to have been burned into the rock. Dean's fingers were longer and slightly fatter, his hand in general just bigger but there was no mistaking that the mark was a hand print and, as far as Dean could tell, a human one at that.

Pulling back, Dean pushed himself up, using Sam's thigh for leverage. Offering Sam his hand, he pulled him up, his fingers absent-mindedly caressing the soft skin of Sam's wrist before he pulled his hand free. 'It looks like a hand melted through the rock,' Dean said, his voice conveying his sense of puzzlement.

As Dean spoke, Sam moved back, further away from the crater as if he was afraid he would fall in or that something would jump out, and grab him, if he stayed too close.

Dean's shoulder tingled, as his gaze strayed back to the rock and the seemingly harmless handprint. The scar on Dean's shoulder reminding him of something he couldn't believe he had forgotten. 'Could...could it have been an angel?' Dean chose to ignore the small hitch in his voice, as he spoke, not wanting to think about what it could mean if yet another angel had decided to slip back in time and fuck around with their past.

Dean could understand if it had happened a few months ago: before he had driven to Lawrence to try and stop Sam from saying yes to Lucifer; before Sam had sacrificed himself, jumping into the cage, dragging Michael and Lucifer with him; before they had stopped the angels' precious apocalypse. But now? Now, there was nothing for the angels to screw around with. Well, nothing that Dean knew about any way.

'No.'

Sam's short reply pulled Dean from his unpleasant musing and, despite the small shudder of relief that shot through him, Dean found himself getting annoyed at Sam's quick dismissal of his idea. Turning around to face his brother, Dean squared his shoulders and looked at the younger man. 'No? That's it? Just no?' he asked. 'No explanation, just gonna shoot me right down. Huh, Sammy?'

'Dean.' Sam's voice was tired and exasperated, his facial expression pleading for Dean to be reasonable, which only managed to irritate Dean that little bit more. With a huff of annoyance, Dean turned away from his brother and walked back around the edge of the crater, to stand and glare into its depths. Childish, he knew but, if Sam wanted to act like a little bitch than he was damned well going to act like a spoilt brat.

Strong arms wrapped around Dean's waist, pulling him against Sam's warm chest, as Sam rested his chin on Dean's shoulder. Dean tensed, refusing to give Sam even the slightest hint that just having him this close was making it hard for Dean to stay mad at him, when all Dean wanted was to sink back into the warmth of his brother's embrace, content to stay there and bask in the love that Sam so freely offered him, even after all the shit they had put each other through over the last number of years.

'Cas said that the spell used was old magic,' Sam explained. 'I mean old, old magic. No angel in their right mind would touch it, knowing what it would cost. Cas said that whoever cast it would have had to drain a town the size of Riley of its energy, life force, souls, whatever it is that the spell requires to power it. Not to mention the extreme act of violence, the blood sacrifice, and even then they'd risk destroying their own grace. I don't think an angel could work this kind of magic even if they wanted to.'

As Sam spoke, Dean relaxed back into him, letting his head fall back against Sam's shoulder, letting his brother's calm voice wash over him. 'Oh yeah? And when did Cas tell you all that?' Dean mumbled, feeling tired after the stress of the last few days and the effort of walking here through the forest, all anger forgotten as Sam's hands rubbed small soothing circles onto his stomach, Sam's fingertips running teasingly against the waistband of Dean's jeans.

Sam's gentle laughter floated past Dean's ear, ruffling his hair. His lips gently brushing against Dean's temple as he spoke softly, as though he was whispering a secret, love confession. 'When you where jerking off in the bathroom. You must have really been going at it, De, that door was rattling like it was going to come off its hinges.'

Dean tensed slightly in Sam's arms, unsure whether or not he should laugh it off or apologize for the previous night's moment of weakness. Sighing, Sam wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, pulling him hard against his body. His soft lips trailing gentle kisses down the exposed column of Dean's neck, causing the older man to push back into the hard body behind him.

'You should have seen the look on Cas's face when he realized what you were doing,' Sam continued. 'It was almost worth sitting through his stupidly long explanation, about old magic, with a hard on. Almost.' Sam nipped at Dean's neck, dragging a moan from between Dean's parted lips before he was pulling away, scratching his blunt nails over Dean's stomach as he went.

Dean stood frozen in the cool night, his heart thumping, his breathing fast and labored. His mind barely processing the loss of Sam's body against his as he tried to figure out how pissed Castiel would be if Dean just forgot all about the hole in time, for a couple of hours, and pushed Sam against the nearest tree, fucking him hard until the only thing he knew for sure was Dean.

When Dean finally had enough control over his libido, to turn and look at his brother, Sam was already kneeling back at the edge of the crater examining the rock, his face scrunched up in concentration. Sighing, Dean made his way back over to stand behind Sam, glancing over his shoulder. 'So what we gonna do?' he asked. 'Dig it up and take it back for Cas to have a look at?'

Dean really hoped that wasn't the option that Sam went for, because just the thought of lugging that thing back to the Impala was making his back hurt and his palms sweat. He was getting too old for this shit and that included, but was not limited to, slogging through the woods in the dead of night lugging big-ass rocks around.

'How about I just take a photo?' Sam said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his phone, waving it at Dean as he shot a smug grin over his shoulder.

Narrowing his eyes, and clenching his jaw, Dean had to really stop himself from pushing Sam into the hole he was so delicately balanced on the edge of, deciding that the aggravation he would have to live through, for the next few days, just wouldn't be worth it. Plus, he didn't want Sam getting mud all over the interior of his baby. It was always a bitch to get mud out of the little cracks in the leather.

The bright flash of Sam's camera illuminated the clearing, casting long shadows from the trees onto the ground in front of them. For the briefest of seconds, Dean had thought he had seen a flash of something tan disappearing between the trees before the extra light was gone. But by the time he made it round the crater, and to the tree line, there was nothing there, no sign that anyone but them had ever been there.

'What is it?' Sam's voice was low and questioning and Dean knew his brother's hand was probably already wrapped around his gun, body tense, ready to fight whatever chose to jump out and attack them tonight.

Sighing, Dean shook his head, letting the hand that held his own gun fall to his side. 'Nothing just...must've been a rabbit or something.' Yeah, a big-ass rabbit but, if anything had actually been there, it was gone now and Dean really didn't have the energy to go searching through the woods looking for a barely-glimpsed ghost of movement.

Jerking his head in the direction they had come from, Sam took a step into the trees. 'Come on, I'm beat,' he said, 'and, no offence, Dean, but you stink worse than that sewer last week in Austin.'

Dean had a witty, sarcastic reply on the tip of his tongue, just begging to come out, but as he opened his mouth a strong gust of wind whipped around them and Dean got a nose-full of the muddy stench that was him. Scrunching up his face in disgust, Dean wished he had taken that shower, before they left the motel, instead of rubbing one out in the bathroom and then getting dressed. It was going to take him days of driving, with the windows down, to get the smell out of the car. Hell, he would probably have to buy one of those tacky, little air fresheners that were supposed to smell like pine trees but really only smelled like ass.

Grunting his dissatisfaction, Dean started the long trek back to the Impala, keeping his gun grasped tightly in his hand as he moved to take position on Sam's six. Dean's gaze darted around, looking for any sign that they were being followed. He could feel Sam moving to walk in front of him, taking the point position, and he knew Sam was doing the same. Probably had his gun out, and half raised, ready to shoot anything that looked threatening.

Dean's body felt uptight from the tension, sexual and hunt-related, that had been in the atmosphere between him and Sam, like a static charge, since Sam had flashed him that hungry smile back at the motel, that and the constant need to be on alert in case someone, or more likely _something_, decided to jump them. His whole body felt tired, even his mind, the last few days were finally getting to him. All Dean knew was that he would be glad when this was over and he could finally get a full night's sleep.


	3. Hit The Road Jack

A/N: so once more I do not own any of these characters though one day I shall have an Impala; even if I have to chose between that and a house, it shall be mine. Thanks again to Ciar for being my beta reader. All feedback is welcomed. Have a spiffing day, all my love, so on and so forth.

xoxo

**Hit The Road Jack **

By the time they made it back to the car, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, its golden rays reaching out towards the heavens. By this stage, Dean had been on the move, without the chance for proper rest, for days. However, now that they were away from the strangeness of the impact site, and the oppressiveness of the woods, he wasn't certain if he felt more interest in the idea of crawling into bed, to try and get a few hours of sleep, or in crawling on top of Sam. Both options sounded appealing, particularly when Sam had got Dean's motor revving again with his provocative teasing during their time spent investigating the crater. Dean thought that, maybe, as he wasn't operating at his full strength, and as he was the _older_ brother, he should let Sam crawl on top of him and do all the heavy lifting for once. The only thing Dean was certain of was that, as long as the next few hours involved his body and a bed, he didn't really care.

As the brothers walked out of the forest and towards the Impala, Dean briefly entertained the idea of chucking the car keys at Sam and letting him drive the hour and a half back to the motel. Dean considered the idea of getting some sleep during the drive, in an effort to try and get some energy back, so when they got to the motel he would be able to do something other than just grunt and take it.

Deciding that his current state, of tired but horny indecision, was all Sam's fault and, therefore, Sam didn't deserve the reward of driving the Impala, Dean slid into the driver's seat, wrinkling his nose up at the faint smell of mud and decay that followed them into the car. As soon as Sam had shut the passenger door, Dean started the engine and pulled out onto the road, the soft purr of the engine relaxing him in a way that nothing else could.

The silence between the brothers was a comfortable one, something that came from years of spending time together in an enclosed space with nothing but each other for company. It felt familiar and safe but, above all, Sam's reassuring presence in the passenger seat allowed Dean to unwind that little bit more, easing the remaining tension from his weary body.

This, right here, was heaven; his heaven. Just him, Sammy, and his baby cruising down the open road. He could spend forever doing just this and never complain, never wish it any other way. Dean wanted to preserve this moment so that when his time came, and he undoubtedly found himself back in the Pit, he would always have this memory to remind him of his life with Sam and the feelings that had made him human.

They hadn't been driving for more than ten minutes, when one of Sam's large hands started to slide up Dean's thigh, jerking him away from his thoughts. Sam's warm breath fanned over the side of Dean's face, as he leaned across the bench seat, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of Dean's ear.

'How slow do you think you can drive?' he asked softly, practically purring the question, his voice low and full of lust.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, as Sam's hand slid that little bit higher, his fingertips gently caressing Dean through his jeans, pushing the hard metal of his zipper down onto the sensitive head of his hardening dick.

Disbelief flooded through Dean, interweaving with his re-awakened lust. He was surprised that Sam was doing this. Sure, in less stressful times, they had fooled around in the car on a couple of occasions and, on one highly memorable night, after they had survived an encounter with a murderous _bean sidhe _who had got tired of just announcing when someone was about to die and had gone straight to killing them instead_, _Dean had even fucked Sam over the Impala's hood; making him watch their reflection in the windscreen. But during those instances of frantic, or life-affirming, sex the car had been parked each time, and almost always it had been Dean who started things, so it was a bit of a bolt from the blue that Sam had decided to take the initiative now.

Groaning at the thought of what Sam might do, Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white from the pressure. He felt as though all the blood was draining from his head into his eager prick as it swelled under Sam's gentle encouragement. Dean's leg twitched as Sam squeezed tightly, causing Dean's foot to jerk down on the accelerator and making the Impala jump forward, the engine rumbling louder as it sped along the blacktop road.

Cursing, Dean quickly eased off the gas, deciding to ignore Sam's gentle laughter as best he could, which was becoming easier with every passing moment as Sam started to work on opening the button on Dean's jeans, slipping his fingers inside the open fly and pushing against the top of Dean's hardening cock, teasingly.

'Keep driving like that and you'll ruin all my fun,' Sam said, nipping at Dean's earlobe; Sam's soft voice doing things to Dean that no one else had ever managed to do. Carefully, Dean moved his foot till the Impala was coasting steadily at 20mph. Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from closing his eyes and actually crashing the car. Although, what a way to go: in a burning blaze of pleasure with Sam's hot, silky lips wrapped around his dick.

The sound of his zipper lowering had Dean's hips shifting forward, instinctively seeking out the heat from Sam's hand that Dean felt radiating thorough the thin cotton of his underwear, as Sam finally slipped his large hand inside Dean's jeans, pushing the fly open to expose Dean's tented boxers.

Dean groaned softly and his foot involuntarily pushed down a little harder on the accelerator, pushing his baby closer to 30mph than the 20 it had been doing. Sam laughed gently, as he lowered his head to lick and suck along the curve of Dean's neck; he rubbed his palm against the hard length of Dean's erection, pushing down harder as Dean bucked his hips up towards the much needed pressure.

'Mmm, keep your eyes on the road, Dean. Wouldn't want to crash,' Sam purred. It was only Sam's enticing voice that made Dean realise his eyes had slipped closed as his body was overcome with pleasure. Quickly, he snapped his eyes open, blinking back the urge to shut them again, as Sam moved the hand inside his boxers, grazing the tip of Dean's weeping cock as he curled his long fingers around the waistband of the dark grey cotton, smearing precome over the sensitive head.

Slowly, Sam peeled back the material, exposing Dean's hot skin to the slightly cooler air in the car. Gasping, Dean pushed his hips up towards Sam's hand, seeking out the friction he craved, only to have it slipping away when Sam moved his hand to stroke idly at Dean's thigh; teasing Dean with the fact that this was his show, his rules, and if he wanted to drag it out for the next hour then there was nothing Dean could do to change Sam's mind, short of pulling over and taking charge. But, with the way that Sam had been making Dean feel since he'd started things off at the motel earlier that night, Dean didn't want that.

Dean would be lying if he said that Sam taking control wasn't one hell of a turn on. Unlike the rest of their lives, when it was them together in the bedroom, Sam was always eager to follow orders, bending to Dean's will so easily that Dean had almost forgotten what it felt like to just sit back and enjoy the ride; to let someone else pull all the strings for once. He just wished that Sam could have picked a different time to go all dominating, control freak on him. A time that didn't involve Dean actually having to concentrate on driving, that preferably didn't involve the Impala at all, unless it was parked, safely away from prying eyes.

Sam laughed in Dean's ear, the sound alluring and enticing, full of promises of wickedly sweet things to come. Sam pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the sensitive skin behind Dean's ear, causing a shiver of pleasure to shoot down his spine. Tightening his grip on Dean's thigh, Sam dug his nails into the denim, the feeling only just on the right side of painful. 'Don't take your hands off the wheel,' he instructed.

With that, Sam pulled away, the sound of his jeans rubbing against the leather bench seat, as he slid backwards, heightening Dean's sense of anticipation. Dean was just about to yell at his brother for getting him so worked up, and then leaving him high and dry, when the top of Sam's head bumped against Dean's elbow as he slipped under Dean's outstretched arm.

Realisation hit Dean, just leaving him enough time to groan out a desperate 'fuck' before his dick was engulfed by the tight wet heat he had been craving all night. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Dean tilted his hips up, pushing his dick into Sam's mouth as he desperately tried to keep his eyes open and stop his hands from sliding into the thick chestnut hair he could see just out the corner of his eyes.

Sam moaned deeply as he tried to swallow Dean's entire dick, attempting to force it down his throat, both of Sam's hands gripped Dean's thighs to keep his brother in place. Sam began to slowly pull his mouth up, his tongue pushing against the thick vein on the underside of Dean's cock until the only part of Dean that was left in him was the silky cockhead. Moaning, Sam swirled his tongue around the head, before dipping into the slit and lapping up all the precome Dean had to offer; taking one last long suck, he quickly slid his lips back down until his nose was buried in the coarse hair of Dean's crotch and the head of Dean's dick was hitting the back of his throat.

Dean groaned out Sam's name and his nails dug into the leather of the steering wheel, his lower body reacted instinctively to Sam's impressive dick-sucking performance which meant his foot pressed down just that little bit more on the gas. Hastily, Dean sought out a spot to stop at the side of the road, somewhere to pull over so he could fuck Sammy's mouth like the two-bit hooker his younger brother was trying to imitate, because Dean didn't think he could take much more of this.

A brief thought of wondering how Sam had learnt to deep throat like that flashed through Dean's mind, like it always did when he had Sam's lips wrapped around his dick, before all coherent thought was chased from his mind. Sam's tongue licked against Dean's dick, caressing the sensitive flesh as he sucked greedily, the noises he was making sounding obscene in the charged silence of the car.

Growling, Dean slammed his foot down on the brake, the car coming to a sudden halt in the road. As soon as the Impala had stopped, Dean grasped a handful of Sam's long, soft hair and thrust up into his mouth, forcing Sam to swallow around Dean's dick.

'Fuck, Sammy,' Dean moaned, as he threw his head back, finally able to let his eyes slip closed as he tightened his grip in Sam's hair, forcing his younger brother's mouth as far down on Dean's dick as it would go.

Sam tightened his grip on Dean's thigh as he relaxed his throat, letting Dean take control and use his hair to guide Sam's head up and down on his brother's hard length. Sam tried desperately to suck, lick, and swallow around the hard silky length in his mouth. Groaning, as Dean pulled him up by his hair, Sam hollowed his cheeks, taking one quick suck at the head, before Dean was pushing his head back down again, as he thrust his hips up, causing Sam's teeth to scrape lightly against the sensitive flesh.

'Jesus Christ, Sam,' Dean yelled, holding Sam's head tight against his crotch as orgasm ripped through him, his eyes going unfocused as mind-numbing bliss rushed outwards through his body. Sam's eyes widened as he urgently tried to swallow down Dean's release, unable to prevent himself from choking as it was forced down his throat.

Panting, Dean slowly uncurled his fist from Sam's hair, only just noticing that he had kept the other one firmly wrapped around the steering wheel. Smirking, Dean shook his head, amazed that he had managed to at least partly follow Sam's instructions to keep hold of the steering wheel. The hand that had been tangled in Sam's hair slipped round to slide under Sam's chin and slowly ease him off Dean's now softening dick. Dean's spent cock fell from Sam's lips as Dean gently pushed his brother away from his crotch. Taking a deep breath, Sam pushed himself up and slumped back into his seat, legs spread and pulling his jeans tight across his own erection.

Sam groaned and tipped his head back, letting his eyes slip closed as he pushed a shaky hand through his hair, shoving it back off his face. His jaw hurt and his lips tingled from being stretched a little too much for a long period of time. His scalp throbbed from where Dean had been yanking on his hair and Sam was pretty sure Dean had tugged some of the strands free. Sam could feel his eyes watering and some of Dean's come, that he hadn't been able to swallow, smeared his chin. Sam's throat felt raw and in desperate need of a drink but, despite the discomfort, Sam couldn't help smiling, the sound of Dean shouting his release still ringing in his ears.

Dean watched Sam from the other side of the car, his racing heart only just starting to return to normal. Sam looked so completely and perfectly ruined and yet totally wanton all at the same time. Dean had done that to Sam, had made his brother look like he belonged in a porno instead of riding around the country killing monsters. And wasn't that a thought, Sam on film, that would look pretty damn good.

Sam was slumped low in his seat, long legs spread as wide as they could go in the confinement of the passenger footwell, pulling the dark denim of his jeans tight over the impressive bulge of his own hard cock. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he pulled in quick deep breaths, his reddened lips slightly parted. Dean's cock gave a valiant twitch of interest at the thought of Sam's lips, and what they could do, but Dean knew it was far too soon for him to do anything again; he wasn't a teenager any more.

Dean looked at the smeared come on Sam's chin, from where he hadn't been able to swallow all that Dean had tried to pump straight down his throat. Sam's eyes were closed and tears clung to his long lashes; Dean knew that only happened when Sam practically choked on Dean's dick because one of them had got a little too eager for it, that one normally being Dean because damn if Sam wasn't good with his mouth.

His gaze following Sam's large hand, Dean watched as his brother pushed the messy strands of hair away from his face, his head falling back to expose the long inviting column of his neck. Quickly, Dean darted closer to his brother, his hand shooting down to cup Sam roughly through his jeans, as Dean licked his own come off Sam's chin before moving to lick into Sam's mouth, shoving his tongue between his brother's lips.

There was nothing gentle about Dean's assault on Sam; it was all tongue and teeth as he worked his hand hard against Sam's erection. Sam moaned around Dean's tongue as Dean did his best to lick his own taste from Sam's mouth, loving the flavour of him and Sam mixed together so intimately.

Dean was so consumed by the kissing he didn't register Sam pushing at him, until Sam slammed his hand into Dean's chest, practically punching him. Groaning his displeasure, Dean pulled away from Sam's mouth, the hand that had been rubbing at his brother's crotch coming up to rub at the spot where Sam's fist had collided with Dean's chest. Dean looked at his panting brother with confusion, not understanding why Sam would stop him when it was so clear he had been enjoying himself.

Sensing Dean's puzzlement, Sam smiled and raised a hand to cup Dean's cheek, his thumb gently caressing the soft skin under his older brother's tired eyes. 'Wait until we get back to the motel,' he whispered. 'Until after you've had a shower and some sleep. Until you have enough energy to fuck me so hard into the mattress the only thing I'll be able to remember is your name.'

Dean's breath hitched at Sam's whispered plea, the softly spoken words sounding more like a love confession than the filthy promise it was. Smiling wickedly, Dean nodded towards Sam's erection. 'Oh yeah, Sammy? And while I was sleeping you would what? Work on sharpening your knives?'

Sam's eyes widened slightly at the double meaning behind Dean's words, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. 'I promise I'll be good, Dean,' he offered. 'I won't touch myself till you're ready to go again; I'll sit on my hands if I have to. Hell, you can even tie me to the chair when we get back, just to make sure.'

Dean's heart was beating fast again, post-orgasmic relaxation completely shot to pieces. His body was tensing at just the idea of his Sammy sitting, all hard and needy, waiting for Dean to wake up and take him. Sam would be unable to do anything but sit and think about all the things Dean could do to him, once he was awake and ready for it again. Not that Dean was under the illusion that he would find sleep easily, knowing what was waiting for him when he awoke.

Growling, Dean shoved himself away from his brother and back in front of the steering wheel. Putting the gear in drive, he jabbed at the on-button for the tape player a little more violently then his baby deserved, the loud sounds of _Metallica_ filling the car. Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, as he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, making the Impala speed along the road as she raced to comply with Dean's command.

Dean knew he was well over the speed limit but he just couldn't bring himself to care about the possibility of being caught by traffic cops right now. The sooner they got back to the motel, the sooner they could continue with whatever game it was that Sam was playing.

Dean's gaze flickered over to Sam as his brother slid both his hands behind his head, groaning as he shifted in his seat, sliding his hips forward until they were right on the edge of the seat, his long legs spreading just that little bit wider, tempting Dean to reach his hand across and just take what he wanted, screw the game and all the rules that Sam had introduced.

Sam smirked knowingly, his long fingers lacing in his long hair, yanking gently, dragging a soft moan from between his slightly parted lips. Rolling his shoulders, Dean pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, his grip so fierce on the steering wheel that the skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

If Sam wanted to play then, fine, they would play and just the thought of having Sam tied up, and unable to do anything but beg, seemed like a really good idea right about now because, while this might have started out as Sam's game, now it was Dean's and he was going to do his best to have Sam begging so loud the people in the next room would start banging on the walls.

Briefly, Dean's mind flitted back to the motel room and the cock ring he had in the bottom of his bag, bought on an impulse and waiting for a special occasion, before his thoughts jumped to the bottle of small, blue pills he had gotten Sam as a gag gift for his birthday and that he had hidden in the lining of Sam's bag for his brother to find at a later date. Those would be one way to make sure that Sammy still had it up for him when he woke up and the lord knew (wherever he may be), that Dean loved to keep Sam riding the edge for as long as his restraint would allow.

Smiling widely, Dean eased off the gas until he was only just over the speed limit. Relaxing into the soft leather of the seat, he let the music wash over him, losing himself as he thought of all the things he could do to Sam once they were alone inside a locked room, the 'do not disturb' sign firmly placed on the handle of the motel room door. Castiel had disappeared off, to do whatever it was the angel did when he was tracking down information, which meant it was looking like Dean's weekend wasn't going to be so bad after all.


	4. Wake Me Up Before You Go

A/N: So don't belong to me though I was wondering if anyone has got past the first chapter? Plot is coming I assure you. Again thanks to Ciar for being my beta. Please review I would love to know what you think. Hope you are all having a lovely day.

**Wake Me Up Before You Go**

Groaning, Sam turned his head to glare sleepily at what he could see of Dean's smiling reflection in the bathroom mirror; the half-closed bathroom door obscured most of Dean from Sam's view. 'I hate you,' Sam mumbled into the pillow, his voice rough, throat almost raw from what they had gotten up to after Dean had woken up from his nap.

Dean's laughter floated out to Sam from behind the door; his older brother sounding self-satisfied and his smile looking almost comically wide as he flashed a grin at Sam in the mirror. 'That's not what you were sayin' an hour ago, Sammy,' he teased, winking. The wink sent a jolt of something infuriatingly like lust through Sam's exhausted body, before Dean was moving away from the bathroom mirror and out of Sam's line of sight, the older Winchester humming something far too cheery and upbeat for Sam's liking.

Glaring at the now Dean-less mirror, Sam couldn't decide whether or not it would be worth the energy it would take to throw one of the pillows at the door. If he put enough force into it maybe he could get the door to swing back and smack Dean in the head. Maybe knock some tact into him.

Deciding against the inconvenience that moving would involve, Sam groaned and buried his head deeper into the pillow, shoving his face into the soft fabric. He hadn't moved from where Dean had left him: face down on the bed, legs spread wide and arms pulled high above his head, his fingers loosely wrapped around the wooden slats of the headboard. He could still feel the rough material of the ties, Dean had used to secure him to the bed, on his skin. Sam's wrists and ankles throbbed pleasantly from the strain he had put on them as he had tugged and squirmed, not trying to get free from his restraints but trying to touch his brother, trying to move so he could see the possessive, hungry glint in his eyes as took Sam. That look was one that Sam had come to crave as proof that Dean wanted this, wanted him.

The moment the brothers had walked through the doorway of their motel room, Dean had pushed Sam backwards against the closed door, the cool metal of the handle digging painfully into the bottom of Sam's back as Dean pinned him against the cheap wood. One of Dean's hands had curled around Sam's right arm, painfully tight, as the other grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, Dean's thigh shoving closely up against Sam's groin.

Dean had growled his orders into Sam's ear, all subtlety and restraint gone, replaced by his desperate need to touch, to work Sam's body and make it respond how _Dean_ wanted, to bend Sam to his desires even if it meant bruising his brother, making him moan and whimper. Dean's voice had been low and rough in Sam's ear as he explained what was going to happen: that while he was taking his shower, Sam was to strip one of the beds down to its sheets and then strip himself naked. After the blow job in the Impala, and the drive back to the motel, Sam had been so eager for Dean to reciprocate that he hadn't really given much thought to what he was doing until he was left sitting naked, on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom, the bedcovers folded neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. Even a horny Sam was a tidy Sam; their father's Marine Corp-taught propensity for cleanliness and order was a hard habit for his sons to break.

The whole time Dean had been in the shower, Sam's mind had raced with the possibilities of what Dean would do to him, of all the things Dean _could_ do to him. It was no secret that since Dean had come back from Hell, and Sam had been yanked back out of the Cage, their kinks had taken a darker turn. For them both, pain blurred with pleasure and made it all that much sweeter. Dean was more than willing to be the one dishing it out; learning just how much was enough, to have Sam begging for it, before it became outright torture. That was Dean's kink; he craved controlling Sam, his Sammy. During sex, Dean took what he wanted from Sam in any way he could and Sam was always more than willing to give it to him.

Dean's time at the hands of Alastair, and Sam's trapped with Lucifer and Michael, had changed them both. Both Winchesters had been able to reassemble the majority of their pre-Hell personalities but Hell had screwed the brothers up more than either of them had ever thought possible. So why couldn't they take comfort in one another? Ever since they were children, they had always given each other whatever was needed so why should now be any different? They both knew what Hell was like, what Hell had been like for the other. They each understood what the other needed to help him keep it together and each brother was more than willing to do whatever it took to help the other.

Sam sighed as unbidden memories of the years he had spent in Lucifer's Cage, as the helpless and unwilling plaything for two enraged Archangels, began to insinuate themselves in with the much more pleasant memories of just how Dean had played with him for the last hour. Sam glanced up at his wrists, the tanned flesh rubbed red and already starting to darken. He knew they would bruise; becoming thick, dark stripes that would be impossible to hide completely. Whenever Sam handed over fake credit cards or dinner menus people would see the marks Dean had made. Whenever Sam pulled out his fake government IDs, and as the sleeves of his suit rode up, people would see his wrists and they would see the proof that he belonged to someone. Someone who could give him what he craved, what he needed. As he stared at his chafed wrists, Sam wondered if that was why Dean had done it, if that was why Dean had marked him. He wondered if Dean wanted people to see _his_ marks on Sam and know that Sam was off limits, taken, that Sam belonged to someone.

The bathroom door creaked, as Dean swung it open and walked back into the bedroom, still humming the annoyingly cheerful tune that was starting to grate on Sam's nerves and spoil his perfectly good afterglow. Sam's whole body felt somewhere between a dull ache and a pleasant, contented hum. The balance between the two states almost perfect if it wasn't for the cold, sticky, wet-patch around his abdomen: annoying but not annoying enough to warrant actually moving to lug his tired, spent ass off the bed and into the bathroom for what felt like the one-hundredth shower he had had that week. Life as a hunter meant blood, guts, sweat, and dirt which meant a lot of time spent trying to get clean, trying to put the latest victim, dead monster, or ganked spirit behind you before moving on to the next hunt.

'Move it, Sasquatch; playtime's over,' Dean crowed.

Sam yelped, his hips bucking forward as Dean's hand collided with his sensitive ass. The loud crack of skin on skin cutting off any reply that Sam had been about to throw his brother's way. Groaning, Sam fisted his hands in the pillow, his ass stung where he knew there would now be an almost perfect replica print of Dean's hand forming on his skin.

Dean wasn't quiet as he moved around the room, rummaging through bags and drawers, moving things and cursing and mumbling under his breath. He was probably looking for Sam's laptop and the pie that, earlier, Sam had mentioned was hidden somewhere in the room.

Smirking, Sam wondered how pissed off Dean was going to be when he found out that the pie's hiding place was Sam's own stomach. In all honesty, Sam had started out with every intention of saving the last slice of pie for his big brother but that had been before he had remembered the most recent skirmish in their sporadic and decades-long prank war: Dean had emptied a whole tube of glue into Sam's shoes and Sam had had to spend an hour slogging around the small town, in his socks, searching for a pair of boots big enough to fit his large feet.

In the kitchenette, a cabinet door slammed shut, the noise sounding loud in the relative quietness of the room.

'Bitch, where's my pie?' Dean growled, his earlier smugness replaced by irritability at the thought of missing out on the chance to indulge in his favorite treat.

Smiling, Sam slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, throwing his head round to look over his shoulder. Dean sat at the small kitchen table, arms folded over his chest, glaring at the laptop as if it had just called his car junkyard scrap. He was pouting like a child who had just been told that he couldn't have what he wanted: Dean was much more in touch with his inner four year old than he would like others to think. It was frustratingly adorable to see this childish part of his big brother and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to throw something at the older man, for acting like a big kid, or if he wanted to apologise for getting Dean's hopes up: neither option seemed that appealing.

Sam shook his head and pushed himself back, sliding down the bed till his feet were planted firmly on the coarse carpet. Shoving against the bed, he pushed himself up so he was standing, staring at the dark-coloured bedroom wall. Rolling his shoulders, Sam rubbed his large hands over his face, before sliding them up to shove his bangs back out of his eyes. His gaze darted towards the bathroom, as he contemplated simply ignoring the sulking man-child behind him and slipping into the shower, washing away the hours' worth of sweat and spunk, both his and Dean's, that covered his skin.

Instead, he sighed, before turning and walking across the small space towards Dean. Draping his arms around Dean's shoulders, Sam placed a soft kiss on his big brother's cheek, eyes flickering briefly to the laptop screen in front of them. 'I'll go get you some pie once I've showered,' he offered, voice soft and placating.

Dean relaxed into Sam's embrace, his head falling back to rest on Sam's shoulder. It never ceased to amaze Sam how the simplest kindness, like the promise of pie, could relax Dean to the point of almost being blissed out.

'So, what you looking for?' Sam asked, almost instantly regretting the question as soon as he asked it; hoping, to whoever was listening, that it was case-related and not porn. It didn't seem to matter how much sex Dean was getting, he always managed to find time to watch some of the freakiest shit the Internet had to offer and Sam was getting really tired of having to clear his browser history every time he logged on to his own laptop. So tired, in fact, that Sam was considering putting one of those child-friendly software locks on the computer, with passwords and security answers that only he would know. Wrapping his arms tighter around his brother, Sam smiled against Dean's skin imagining the repercussions such an act would have on their sex life.

'I have no idea,' Dean responded, before lifting his head off Sam's shoulder, sliding away and sitting up straight, with an indignant grunt. 'Do I just type in "melted alien hand in rock" and spend the next week weeding through crack stories and sci-fi fanboy blogs.'

Dean shoved the laptop away from him, pushing it into the middle of the table. Sam could feel the frustration rolling off Dean, wrapping around his own calm state and making him begin to feel edgy and his skin begin to itch. There were only two things Sam knew of that were a sure fire way to make Dean relax and, as he just wasn't in any fit state to spend the next twenty minutes on his knees with his large body shoved under the small table, Sam suggested the only other thing he knew Dean loved just as much as sex. Maybe even more, sometimes Sam wasn't totally sure.

'Why don't you drive into town, get some food, and I'll start work on the research into the handprint,' Sam prompted, feeling Dean physically perk up in his arms at the suggestion. Unwrapping his arms from around Dean's neck, Sam took a step to the side allowing Dean to push the chair back and pull himself to his feet, his hand already sliding across the table to grab his car keys.

Stopping at the door, Dean turned to look at Sam and, for the first time since Dean had woken up over two hours ago, their eyes met properly. Sam felt as though Dean's green eyes were boring straight into his soul, the feeling making Sam uncomfortable. Sam never wanted want Dean to truly see the blood-stained mess that his soul had become, riddled with stains and reflecting the darkness that lingered within him, the darkness that Sam had fought every day since his soul had been returned to him. He didn't want it tainting Dean's light.

After a moment, Dean smiled widely and Sam couldn't help but smile back, the sudden return of Dean's happiness infectious despite Sam's darkening mood. 'You plan on spending the rest of the day like that?' Dean smirked.

Sam's smile changed to a flush of embarrassment. How had he forgotten he was naked? It shouldn't be possible for him to forget something so basic, unless Dean had kept his earlier promise and really had fucked his brains out. Which at the moment seemed to be a real possibility.

Dean's smile turned wicked as his eyes roamed over Sam, taking in every inch of exposed skin. Suddenly, and irrationally given what Sam and Dean had been doing together, naked, for the past hour, Sam wanted to wrap his arms around himself and hide his body from Dean's gaze.

'Just saying that if you are, I don't think we'll be getting much work done when I get back.' Dean winked as he yanked open the motel room door, exposing Sam for anyone to see before he was slipping out of the unnecessarily large gap, slowly swinging the door closed behind him.

Sam stood in the middle of the kitchenette, hyper-aware that he was butt naked, his skin covered in bruises, handprints and various bodily fluids, and that, at some point, the room's drapes had been thrown open. His face flushed with mortification. As he stood there, contemplating the unwelcome prospect of being seen by someone outside and trying to get his tired body to move towards the bathroom, the cleaning cart came into view closely followed by the haggard-looking, middle-aged woman who cleaned the motel rooms.

For a split second, their eyes met through the grubby glass, and Sam felt everything stilling around him, before the women's face turned an angry shade of red and her outraged shout came through the room's thin walls.

'Shit,' Sam groaned, turning to hide his junk from her and tripping over the abandoned bedclothes in his haste to make it to the safety of the bathroom. Once inside, with the door shut tightly behind him Sam sunk to the floor, his heart pounding as he tried to calm his nerves.

He had just flashed the maid. He had just flashed some poor, middle-aged women who had probably attracted the attention of half the people in this shit hole, along with her boss who would be banging on the door in a matter of minutes demanding that Sam get his freaky flasher-ass out and back on the road.

Sam let his head fall back and hit the door with a dull thud. This was all Dean's fault for opening the drapes, during his hunt for the pie, without warning him. Sam cringed, if he got thrown out of their room for flashing the motel staff, Dean was never going to let him forget it.


	5. Handprints In The Stone

A/N: So yet again here we are and look, I found some plot - who would' have thunk it. As always, I own none of the characters. I hope you enjoy this one, it's got some Dean angst in it whiitch is always good for the soul. Please review and I hope you have a lovely day, night or afternoon; which ever one may apply.

**Handprints In The Stone**

When Dean finally made it back to the motel, almost two hours latter, Sam was fully dressed and sitting at the table, scrawling on a notepad as his gazeeyes darted back and forth across the lcomputer aptop screen. Dean couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the industrious scene in front of him.

He had been so looking forward toentertaining the idea of bursting through the door of the motel room and finding Sam sprawled out naked on the bed, ready and waiting for him, nicely rested before Round Two. D Hean had been imagininghad all sorts of things he could do plans to Sam for him and having to drag Sam him away from his research, and out of his clothes, was just an unnecessary obstacle.

"'Houneny, I'm home,"'. Dean yelled, in an overly loud and sweet voice, slamming the room door shut behind him. Sam glanced up from the computer screen, glaring his displeasure at Dean, before going back to his work. Raising an eyebrow at his brother's sudden, rotten attitude Dean made his way over to the table, making sure to setdumping the grocery bags on top of Sam's notepad.

Growling in annoyance Sam growled in annoyance and yanked the pad out from under the bags, shoving them back away in the process. Shifting in his seat, Sam placed the notepad on the other side of his laptop, ignoring Dean as best as he could.

Scowling down at his brother Dean scowled down at his brother and gave serious thought toabout smacking Samhim onround the back of the head. It , might teach him to lighten up a little and, the Lord knoews, they could do with some sort of fun in their lives about now. "'What crawled up your tight ass and died?"' he asked.

"'Nothing".,' Sam forced out between clenched teeth, rolling his shoulders as he pushed himself further back into the hard plastic of the chair, forcing himself to sit up straighter.

"'Okay then".,' Dean drawled. Unconvinced by his brother's response, Dean

rRolleding his eyes at Sam and his sudden transformation into a bitchy, teenage girl. Dean started to unpack the plastic bags, pulling out containers of food and more than one a good half a dozen boxes of pie. "'Find anything?"' hHe was only asked,ing out of habit,, not really expecting Sam to turn round and say yeah,yer its some old Hag out in New Mexico or for Sam to haveeven come up with asome sort of spell to track whatever the hell it wais they where after, but he asked all the same, just because it's what he always did.

Flicking his gaze up from grocery unpacking and towards his younger brother, Dean watched with curiosity as Sam relaxed slightly, his rigid posturebody seeming beginning to loosen somewhat deflate as some of histhe tension began to left himdissipate. So Sam'sthe attitude didn't have anything to do with the case then;. tThat was interesting. At a later time, He Dean would have to remember to asking Samhim what was bothering himabout it at a later time:, when they had time for him to be able tohe could tease Samand taunt him about it;. wWhen they could just be brothers instead of monster hunters.

Grabbing the food-boxes containersof pie , Dean made his way over to the shitty, little fridge that was humming softly in the corner of the kitchenetteroom.

"'Fort Worth, Texas".,' Sam said, unexpectedly.

Shoving the boxes into a clear space in thein the fridge, Dean stood up, kicking and kicked the appliancefridge door closed as he went and turned to face Sam, a questioning look on his face. "'Mason, Illinois".,' he responded.

Sam raised an eyebrow in question, looking at Dean as if he had sprouted another head.

"'What?' Dean protested. 'I thought we were just naming random places"..' HeDean could see the clogs in Sam's brain turning as he mentally ran through every insult he could throw at Dean. Dean could tell that Sam was considering eEverything from calling Deanhim an idiot to calling him a dickhead.

Instead, Sam he just shook his head, rolling his eyes at Dean in athat way thatthat Dean knew Dean knew meant that Sam just didn't think it was worth the time, or brain power, it would take to insulate his older brotherm., Aand, okay, Dean cwould admit that maybe hee had been trying to provoke Sam a little, hoping for one of their playful little name- calling sessions that, but most days, they ended up as make- out sessions now, not that Deanhe was complaining. But if Sam wanted to stay all broody, and business- like, Deanhe could live with it, just this once any way.

Turning back to the laptop,computer Sam's fingers moved quickly over the keysbuttons as he skipped from one browser tab to the next, searching for something that had proven useful. "'Fort Worth Museum of Science and History,' he said, 'for two weeks, and two weeks only, are displaying a privaete collection of n Native American artefacts which just so happen to include a boulder found in the Nevada desert with a hand carved into it"..'

As Sam had been talking, Dean had walked up behind him to read over his shoulder. Resting one hand on the table next to the laptop, and the other gripping the back of Sam's chair with the other, Dean leaned forward slightly, his knuckles rubbing against Sam back. "

'That's what …two days from here?"' he asked.

Sam nodded his head in agreement, picking up the pad and holding it out for Dean to take.

Standing back up, Dean took the bright- yellow pad from his brother and quickly flicked through the notes, taking in all the information he could, concentrating on the stuff he knew he needed to know and completely ignoring all the other stuff that he knew Sam had already memorised.

"'Dude, what did you even search to find this?"' he asked.

Gazing down Dean gazed down, watchinged as Sam's fingers twitched on the keyboard, a look of disgust flickering across the younger man's his face before he looked was looking up at Dean with big, pleading, puppy- dog eyes.

"'Trust me, you don't want to know".,' he said, with feeling.

Sam's voice was riddled with something that Dean could only describe as dismayhorror with a hint of disgust. For a second, Dean thought about calling Samhim out on it because it must have been some really freaky shit for Sam not to want to bring it up. The brief impulse passed and, nNodding his head, Dean threw the pad back on the table, watching as it slid across the smooth surface and , only just stoppeding before it fell off the other end. "

'Fairre enough".,' he conceded.

Moving away from his brother, Dean sat down on the edge of the nearest bed, the springs squeaking slightly protesting under his weight. Sam turned in his chair to look at him, their eyes meteting across the small space making and made the uneasiness, that Dean had been feeling since Castiel had popped into their room thelast night before , slip to the back of his mind.

Despite the unusual natureness of their current hunt, Dean was glad that at least this bit was the same;, familiar. Something they had done a hundred times before and now had down to an art form. They had spent years sitating across from one another in crap motels talking through jobs, discussing the possible monsters they could be hunting.

"'So, should we call Cas and tell him first?"' Sam asked, wavinged his hand vaguely towards the ceiling as he spoke, as thoughif Dean needed reminding ofas to where Castiel cwould be when he wasn't with them. Sam's voice sounded more uncertain than anything else, as if he wasn't sure they should be bothering Castielhim with something like this when they both knew he had other, possibly more important, things to be doing.

"'Nah,' Dean replied. 'Wwe'll check it out first, see if it's a dead end or not before we bother old feather- head"..' Dean could justsee make out athe flicker of disapproval in Sam's eyes at the name he had used to describe the angel but Samhe didn't say anything. He dDidn't make a move to chide Dean like he normally would if said angelCastiel was present.

Smiling, Dean eyed the fridge longingly, regretting putting all the pie away instead of keeping a slice out for himself. It didn't matter that he had eaten stwo slicesome before he had made it back to the motel, he wanted more, damn it.

As if reading Dean'shis mind, Sam pushed his large frame out of the chair and quickly made his way over to the fridge, covering the space in two big strides of his freakishly long legs. As Sam bent over to rustle around in the fridge, Dean's eyes fell to his brother's ass, admiring the view. He could practically feel the soft skin under his rough hands as he spread Sam open, his thumbs caressing the firm tight muscle.

"'I can feel you staring at my ass"..'

Sam's playful voice pulled Dean away from his memories, made his gaeyes ze darting back up to Sam's headhead. Dean, waggleding an eyebrow suggestively as he leered at his brother. Turning around Sam turned around, returningned Dean'shis smile with an amused quirk of his lips;, two boxes of pie, balanced on top of one anotheanother, in one hand and two forks grasped tightly in his other hand.

Sam looked more so relaxed as he slowly walked back towards Dean, something that was a rarity these days. A small flash of longing shot through Dean at the image in front of him. He could get used to this - n. Not the crappy motel rooms and the constant running from one monster attack right into another,. tThey had been doing thatis long enough that it had become their normal, their routine day in day outdaily life - but_ this_, him and Sam just together, doing normal people things, living a normal person's life.

Dean would never admit it to Sam; Dean often hid it from himself in the part of his mind where he repressed everything that wasn't to do with living in the here and now, but in Dean's imagination, if they settled down, Sam could go back to school and, get his masters, or whatever it was he was trying to get back at Stanford before Dean had shown up. He could become asome big wig lawyer in a high-r rise office, settling high- profile divorce cases and representing Hollywood's finest. OrNo maybe not, his Sammy would want to be one of those lawyers that worked for a charity, or something along those lines, helping people that way.

And as for Dean, he had no interest in attending college so he could get a job at a the garage or a construction site, doing something that involved working with his hands and, actually doing something, building something. Dean's occasional daydreams involved them gettingThey could get a house together, living somewhere where they didn't have to hide what they really were to each other. Somewhere where Dean would be able to hold Sam's hand, as they walked down the street, or , would be able to kiss him in the aisles of the supermarket, as they argued over what kind of bread to buy.

Offering up the a soft smile of thanks, Dean took the plastic container that Sam held out for him asbefore he moved to siat down next to Deanhim, the bed sinking under the extra weight. Silently, they pulled open the plastic containers and started to dig into their respective pieces of piefood.

Humming around a mouthful of apple pie, Dean chanced a look at his brother. SamHe looked happier now than he had earliery, he seemed content;, his lips quirked up in a knowing smile around his fork. Sighing, Dean shoved another forkful of desertpie into his mouth, in a desperate attempt to stop himself from saying something he would come to regret. His ever- searching eyes roaming around the room taking in theretheir scattered possessions, the only proof that they existed.

Almost everything he and Samthey owned was in that room, and what wasn't in the room with them was in the Impala or languishing in a couple of dusty storage lockers, and wasn't that a sad thought. The only thing of any value that they really had to their name was the Impala, and a whole bunchits cache of weaponry, and that was it;, nothing truly substantial. TBut that was theire life, .

tThey lived on the moved and never stayed in one place longer than a few days. It seemed like tand there wouldould always be something chasing them, some monster after Winchester blood. They would never get a chance to have a normal life or , to be normal. They would never get to have a family and Dean felt thatbecause Sammy deserved to have a family of his own. To have a kid of his own thatwhom he could raise and love and spend the weekends playing ball with and teaching them how to ride a bike - the list of things Sam was missing out on was huge in Dean's mind. Because Sam had a lot of love to give, if he was given half the chance, and he would cherish a kid like it was the most precious thing on earth. Sam might be awkward around kids but DHean knew Sam his brother would make a great dad, better then Deanhe would have ever been.

Sam shifted next to him, their elbows knocking together as he leaned forward to place his now empty container on the floor. Dean could imagine Sam in a normal that life; he could see it clearly. SamHe would look so perfect on a green lawn in front of a suburbana mid terrace house, toys lying scattered across the lawn as he played with a wide- eyed, brown- haired little boy with a wide,e, infectious, trusting smile.

Sighing, Dean shoved the pointless thought to the back of his mind knowing that it would never be a possibility. That kind of life just wasn't an option for a hunter or, it would seem, a Winchester. Shovelling the last bit of pie into his mouth, Dean pushed himself off the bed and over towards his duffel bag, leaving the plastic container on the sheets bed next to Sam. Dean

He didn't want to think about the life he was denying his brother by keeping him in this life, keeping him in _his_ life. Dean didn't want to imagine if he would even be a part of Sam living a normalthat life or not.

"'You waonna go now?"' Sam asked

His's brother's questioning voice cut through Dean's thoughts as he rummaged through his bag checking to see what was already in there and what he needed to find.

Closing his eyes, Dean took a deep breath, shoving his doubts and guiltself hate to one side, before opening them again and turneding his head to look at Sam over his shoulder, doing his best to smileing at him.

"'No time like the present, Sammy".,' he answered, and, without waiting for Dean didn't wait for Sam's reply, before he turned back to examining the contents of his bagduffel, glaring down at his dirty clothes, the muddy and blood- splattered garments smelleding worse than a thirty year old gravefoul. They would have to stop somewhere tomorrow so he could visit a laundrette. In fact, do a load of washing, he might even have to go as far as buying some new clothes if he couldn't manage to get the dried blood stain out of his jeans. Behind Dean, t

The bed squeakedgroaned as Sam gotgot up, his footsteps sounding impossibly loud to Dean's agitated mind as he made his way back over to the table where he had left hishis laptop. Zipping his bag shut, Dean stood up turningup and turned to look around the room for any stray belongings, watching from the corner of his eye as Sam started to pack away thehis computerlaptop.

They quickly slipped into their familiar rhythm, moving silentlyquickly around the room to eliminateremoving any trace that they had been there, even going as far as to wipe down the surfaces to remove, removing any fingerprints that could tie them to here and now.

Once they were both packed and ready to go, the motel room looked almost exactly as it had when they had first opened the door three days ago.

"'You ready?"' Dean asked, turninged to look at Sam, watching as Samhim as he flung his own duffelbag over his shoulder.

Looking up at his older brother,m Sam nodded his head. "'Yeah".,' he replied, grasping tThehe garish ugly yellow notepad grasped tightly in his hand, the directions to Fort Worth scribbled on the pad's top a new page; , Sam's OCD about on being well-prepared having got the better of him.

Pulling his sleeve down to cover his hand, Dean yanked the motel room door open and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. Taking a few steps out into the car park Dean took a few steps out into the car park and stoppedfroze as the Impala come into view, his eyes narrowing slightly before he was off again;. hHis strides quicker and longer in his haste to get to his baby.

He heard the motel room door close behind him but he didn't pay it much attention, his eyes trained on the long delicate figure of a womenwoman bent over the side of his car, peering in through the windshieldwindscreen. Anger bubbled up inside of him at the fact that that someone was clearly eyeing up his car, his thoughts quickly turning to suspicion that this woman most definitely looked like she was sizing things up in preparation formost definitely thinking about stealing it before it jumped to suspicionthe vehicle.

HDean'sis hunter instincts kicked in and, in the few seconds that it took him to get from the motel room and next to the womaen, he was already thinking up several ways to determine if she was a demon or not. One of the less subtle ones being that he would happily throw a flask full of Holly Water in her face.

"'Can I help you?"' he asked,

sStopping slightly behind her he barked out the question, making no effort to sound polite. H, his voice cameoming out angrier than he had intended but, then again, he was pretty pissed that someone was touching his car so blatantly. The womenwoman gasped at his sudden appearance, spinning around and pushing herself back against the Impala's hood at the same time, a gracefuldelicate -llooking hand coming up to press against her chest, resting over her franticallly beating heart.

"'I'm so sorry".,' tThe young womenwoman gasped out. Hher apology coming in a , her accent thick but unplaceablerecognisable accent.

Taking his first good look at the young womenwoman, Dean began to physically relax a littleed, the stranger'sher graceful features and panicked body language combining to quietensoothing his rage somehow. The poor girl looked terrified, her emerald- green eyes were wide and full of alarm panic as she pushed herself back a little bit harder against the car. Her long, chestnut hair hung in loose ringlets curls flowing downdown her back and cascaded over her shoulders, with shorter layers framing her face. Her pale pink lips where slightly parted, her tongue just visible as it ran over her her impossibly white teeth.

Slowly, Dean dragged his eyes down her body, telling himself that he was searching for possibleany concealed weapons but knowing full well that he was appreciating the view none the less;. hHe never could resist looking not look at a pretty girl.

She wore a faded, black, leather jacket that looked like it had seen a good few years of use but had been looked after and well-loved to the point of obsession. Underneath the jacket, she wore had a dark get ves topt on with, a faded symbol on it the front that Dean recognised as Metallica's _Master of Puppets_ tour logo. Her dark, blue jeans clung to her body like a second skin leaving little to the imagination and nowhere comfortable to hide a weapon, unless she had a knife tucked into one of her black cowboy boots.

Flicking his eyes back up he quickly took note of the silver locket that hung around her neck, nestled between her breasts, an ornate looking _W_ carved on the front. His gaze didn't linger long on the exposed swell of her breasts before darting back up to her eyes, drawn to them as if something was yanking his gazeown eyes upwards.

There was something about her eyesthem, something so familiar that he just couldn't put his finger on. It was aAlmost like he had seen them somewhere before, like he knew them from somewhere. Dean was fairly sure she wasn't a hook-up from his pre-Sam days, because he didn't usually go for women so much younger than him, but something about her was tugging at the back of Dean's mind.

The young womenwoman, for she was fairly young, no older than her mid twenties at the most, shifted nervously under his scrutinizing gaze. It was only then that Dean realized he had been glaring at her as if she was the scum of the earth.

Before he could apologise for his aggressive behaviour, she was talking again, her voice smooth and low like liquid chocolate as she launched into an explanation.. "'I'm sorry I just saw the car and I couldn't resist. I haven't seen an Impala since I was little,' she babbled, 'and I just...no one was around… so… I just...sorry"..' Her voice trailed off into an apologetic murmurwhisper, the hand that had been over her heart shototing up to rub at the back of her neck, her head falling forward so her bangs fringe fell in front of her eyes. Nervously, she looked up at him through her lashes with wide, pleading, brown puppy dog eyes, an uneasy smile on her lips.

Dean was strangelyinstantly reminded of Sam. The woman's action seemed soo familiar that Deanhe could easily picture see his little brother doing the same thing just hours ago in the motel car park, when they had gotten out of the Impala, once they had made after making it back from chasing phantom handprints in the woods.

Feeling suddenly puzzled, and hHuffing out a gentle laughter at the thoughts that had been going through his mind, Dean shook his head slightly at his own stupidity. He always had to jump to the worst conclusion,conclusion; it was one of the downsides of being a hunter and of being on the run. Wwhy couldn't he see the simple conclusionone that she was like a pretty girl was admiring a sexy car? He flashed her his most charming smile, the one that he normally reserved for sweet- talking waitresses into giving him some extra sides an extra slice of pie for free.

"'Nah its fine".,' he drawled.

Shrugging the strap of his duffelbag back up onto his shoulder, Dean extended his arm and, offereding the young womanher his hand. "'Dean".,' he said, He giving heroffered up his real name before he even thought about lying and using a fake one. , Aa voice in the back of his head, one that sounded a lot like Sam, screameding at him for being so stupid. They didn't even know who this person was and he was just giving out his name, the woman she could be a an undercover cop for all they knew. Dean mentally waved a hand in the voice's general direction, shoving its complaints to one side.

The womanShe looked at the offered handappendage with slight apprehension before grasping ithis hand tightly in hers, smiling widely as she shook it. "'Hope".,' she responded, her lipsShe poppingpopped on the 'P'p.,

Hher eyes sparkleding with something Dean couldn't quite place, though he found himself glad that she now sounded slightly amused instead of the scared she had been.

Pulling his hand back , he waved ithis at the Impala, adverting his eyesgaze from her penetrating gazeeyes that seemed to be seeing right through his attempt at fleshy outsideprotective colouring and straight into his soul.

"'You uerh...you like cars?"' he asked, lamely.

Dean really didn't know why he was making conversation with this woman instead of telling her to get lostshove off. He was in a hurry and tThey didn't have time for this. and Tthere really was no point in him making small talk with this stranger behind it but there was just something about her that made him want to keep her there for a while longer. Something about her that he feltknew he could trust, he just didn't know why.

He felt, rather than heard, Sam come up behind him. Dean rather than heard him, could feel the tension and suspicion rolling off of his brotherm like a tidal wave. Dean watched the womenwoman in front of him with caution, expecting her to start quivering with fear in terror again because he knew Sam's scary face and it could strike tefear rror into the hearts of some of the strongest men Deanhe knew.

But, to Dean'shis surprise, sheshe just smiled up at Samhim, her green eyes alight with amusement…t but that couldn't be right, could it? Dean knew that when he got angry he could be pretty scary but an angry Sam was one hell of a lot scarier than him, so why was she not backing away slowly as if she was being attacked confronted by a wiled animal?

Turning to face the car, she waved a delicate tanned hand at it. "'I love cars, especially the classics".,' she enthused, as sShe moved forward her hand to caresssing the smooth, black paint;, a look of longing and utter adoration in her eyes. Once again, Dean strongly wanted to tell her to get her damn hands off his car; no one touched her except him and Sammy.

"'1967, V8, 275 horsepower right?"' sShe asked, as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and , shotooting the brothersem a questioning look, her eyebrow raised as she awaited an answer. Dean nodded his head dumbly,dumbly; amazed that sheomeone knew all that just off the top of her their head. _ He_ knew that, and he was pretty sure Sam, at least, knew the year the car was made but the rest of it? Not a chance;. Sam was the Winchester without any interest in mechanical things.

As she turned back to look in the driver's side window, a flash of black caught Dean's eye and instantly he zeroed in on a black heart- shaped tattoo behind the woman'sher right ear as she turned back to look in the driver's side window. Dean could just make out something scrawled underneath it, in a language he didn't recognise, before her hair was falling back in place and hiding it from view once again.

"'You seem to know a lot about Impala's.".'

Dean's head snapped round and up at the hostility in Sam's voice, slightly shocked at his brother's unusually impoliteSam's behaviour. Sam's eyes where narrowed at the young womenwoman, his lips pressed into a tight thin line. SamHe looked every bit as suspicious as he sounded,sounded; his body was pulled up to his full height and towering over them, except he wasn't towering over _them_.

SamHe was definitely towering over Dean but, as Dean he turned back towards the car, it was clear to see that Sam wasn't that much taller than the womenwoman in front of them. She had turned back round to face them again, easy smile lighting up her face but she was standing straighter now, shoulders back and head held high.

Shrugging casually, she locked eyes on Sam, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "'My dad had an Impala,' she said.. 'I swear he loved the damnmed thing more than me. Didn't really have a choice but to learn everything about it"..'

Sam's barking laughter rang in Dean's ears and he quickly snapped his head round to see his brother smiling fondly, his suspicious eyes softening. "'Oh, I can relate to that".,' he agreed.

Dean glared at Sam, poking his tongue out slightly at him. So what if he was a little too attached to the Impala. It was a good car and had been through a lot with them. It was part of their family.

Frowning, Dean turned back to Hope only to find her staring at them, a soft smile on her lips and .a A strange look in her deep eyes: somethingwhere between loss, longing, and love. Dean felt a shiver run down his spine, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was somehow partly to blame for that small sliver of sadness flickering behind her eyes.

Shaking his head slightly, Dean banished the errantstupid thought. because Iit couldn't have possibly been love that he had seen in her eyes and he couldn't be the one to blame for her sadness, he was sure he had never even meet the chick before today.

"'_Had_ an Impala?"' he asked. Scepticism laced his voice because… really? The Impala was one sexy car and he just could notn't imagine someone getting rid of one, not unless they really had to that is.

Shrugging her shoulders, Hopeshe glanced back at the sleek, black car, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently on it before letting it go. She looked torn for a second, almost like the world was shattering around her and she didn't know what to do, but in the blink of an eye it was gone, replaced by a sad sort of half- smile.

"'Got hit by a semi".,' she replied, ruefully.

Dean winced, remembering when his own baby had been on the receiving end of a force that bigg and . rRemembering what it had cost all of them that day. The state of the ImpalaIt hadn't been pretty and it had been one hell of a bitch to rebuild. Sam shifted next to him, one of his large hands coming up to rest on the small of his back.

Instinctively Dean relaxed back into the touch, his eyelids fluttering shut momentarily, as he imagined the heat radiating from his brother sinking into his own skin. It never stopped amazing him how Sam always managed to do this to him, to take away all the pain and hurt and to just make him feel...normal. Cared for, loved, like he mattered.

Hope didn't miss the affectionate exchange between the two men and before Dean could explain why he had been sort of starting to flirt with her, when he was so clearly with the guy behind him, she was taking a nervous step backk and, waving a hand behind her towards a beat- up, red, Ford truck parked a few spaces over.

"'I should get going, got to be in Kansas by the end of the week".,' she blurted out, sounding uncomfortable. SShe scrunched up her face slightly, before turning and walking briskly towards the truck, and Dean was once again struck by theher resemblancefamiliarity of her behaviour it Sam, because that was almost a perfect replica ofdefinitely Sam's '_I can't believe you just did that_' face.

Before he knew he was doing it, Dean was yelling out to her, dragging her attention back to them, and stopping her in her tracks. "'Oh yeahr? What's in Kansas?"' he asked.

Sshe looked sheepishly down at the ground, sheepishly, her eyes lookingdarting anywhere but at them as she rubbed at the back of her neck, shrugging her shoulders. "'A 1967 Mustang Fastback"..'

Dean let out a low whistle. He could see her in a car like that, bet she would look as hot as hell with the wind blowing through her hair as she sped down an open stretch of road, classic rockloud rock music blaring out for all the world to hear.

Smiling seductively at her, Dean took a step towards the Impala, slipping the keys from his pocket as he went. "'Sweet ride".,' he drawled, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. He heard the low growl behind him and knew Sam had picked up on the double meaning behind his words, knew what Deanhe was implying. DeanHe knew it was wrong to be doing this to Sam but he loved getting him jealous, loved what came after.

Hope's impossibly green eyes widened in shock and for a second Dean thought maybe hne had pushed their little exchange too far but then she was speaking again, her green eyes practically glowing.

"'Oh, I assure you, it's one hell of a ride".,' she answered back, hHer smile was wide and flirtatious as she winked at him.

Laughing gently, Dean unlocked the driver's side door and car watcheding as she walked backwards towards her own car, her eyes never leaving his.

"'You and your boyfriend have a safe trip".,' she called out asWith that she spun around, waving back to them over her head. The truck door screeched as she yanked it open before she slipped before she slipped in side her beat- up truckvehicle, slamming the door behind her.

The passenger door to the Impala swung open, the car rocking slightly under Sam's weight as he got in, the door slamming behind him, the sound ringing with finality. Though he knew Sam was more thant irritated with him, Dean remained rooted to the spot, gaze fixedeyes glued onto the truck as it roared to life.

It wasn't until she had pulled out of the motel parking lot, turning left and out of sight, that Dean opened his own door and slid inside the car, shoving his bag onto the back seat as he went. As soon as the door was shut, he was assaulted by a lap full of Sam, his brother's lips pushing hard against his own, Sam's tongue forcing its way past his lips and into his mouth.

Too surprisedhocked to do much more than take it, Dean sat there wide eyed and frozen, his breath catching in his throat. Sighing, Sam pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Dean's kiss- swollen lips. "'Do you have to flirt with every half- attractive womenwoman who so much as blinks at you".,' he murmured. Sam didn't sound angry, just fed upexasperated, and Dean wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Shame crept up on him, wrapping its long, bony fingers around his heart and squeezinged tightly. Shifting round untill he could press his forehead against Sam's, Dean looked him straight in the eyes, hoping that Samhe would be able to see how true his next words where. "'It means nothing"..'

Dean kept his voice low but forced as much love and conviction into it as he possibly could, those three words carrying with them everything else that went unspoken between the two of them. _They mean nothing. You are my everything_. But most importantly _I love you_.

Smiling softly, Sam placed a chaste kiss on Dean's lips before sliding back into his own seat getting comfortable for the long journey ahead. Shoving a tape into the player, Dean started the engine, the music blasting from the speakers.

Sam's groan of annoyance could be heard over AC/DC, his hand twitching on his leg as he fought the urge to attempt to turn the song down or off. Not that he would be able to;. Dean had fast reflexes and he would keep slapping Sam's hand away until his brothere got the message.

"'Dean"..' Sam whined Dean's name, all high-p pitched and childlike.

girl that Dean would make sure to take the piss out of his little brotheroff latter. Laughing, Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned right. "'Sammy".,' he responded, trying Dean tried to put as much authority into his voice as he could but even he could hear the amusement in it.

Sighing, Sam slumped back into the seat, legs knocking against the door as he tried to get comfortable. "'Yeah, yeah,r I know. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakepie hole"..'

Dean said the last bit with Samhim, his voice coming out more sing- songie than he had intended but at least Sam was finally starting to learn the housecar rules after all the years they had spent travelling together.

Smiling, Dean started to sing along to _You Shook Me All Night_ _Long_ as loud and as badly as he could, knowing that it would piss Sam off sooner rather than latter - but what where big brothers for if not to annoy and humiliate theirre little brothers?

Dean took one last look in the rear-view mirror, at the latest shitty motel to be added to the long list of other shitty motels they had spent so much of their lives in, his mind flashing back to the young womenwoman they had just met and who he knew he had seen before, knew he had meat before.

As they drove on, he ran through every possible place he could think of where he might have meet her. He tried to think of, every job they had done, every waitress or shop assistant he had flirted with, every womenwoman he could remember having in his bed. When his mind turned up a blank he made a mental note to mention it to Sam, but not until once his brothere had calmed down some more about Dean flirting with her outside the motel, maybe he'd wait until after he had fucked Samhim stupid again.

All Dean knew for sure was that there was something about her, something almost familiar that made him want to trust her, and shoot her, all at the same time and he knew from bitter experience that people like thatthose where the kind of people who tended to get you killed.

Staring down at the black dot on the large map of America she had unfolded on her lap, Hope quickly thought out the quickest route. "'Fort Worth, Texas,' she said., 'Tthat's what… two days from here?"' Shifting in her seat she turned to look behind her at the young man lying bound and gagged on the back seat, his body stretched out, feet securely tied to the door whilest his hands where fastened behind his back.

He looked back at her with wide, blue eyes full of panic and fear, silently pleading with her to let him go - and wasn't that just so spectacular, so human of him. It had been so long since she had been around real people, not just their hollowed- out shells, that she had almost forgotten what they were like:. hHow they felt, how they thought, how they breathed.

Sighing, she folded the map back up and shoved it into the glove compartment. "'What the hell is in Fort Worth, Texas?"' she mused. Expectantly Sshe looked back, expectantly, at the bound man as if she was waiting for him to answer her but all her irritated question managed to do was to cause the young man to sob out a panicked cry, pushing himself back against the faded and ripped leather as if it would protect him from her.

Shoving her hand into her long hair she pushed it out of her face, her green eyes narrowing in concentration as she tried to think of what could possibly have the Winchester brothers running off to Texas so suddenly. She couldn't really recall any real problem they had had there, nothing that would have them driving across country any way.

Her eyes widened in realisation, as everything seemed to click into place. Smiling in triumph, she swung her legs round off the seat and down onto the floor. Shoving the key into the ignition, the engine roared to life, the stereo starting almost straight away;, the old AC/DC tape starting from where it had left off.

"'Fort Worth,' she drawled., 'Nnice place; shame about the vampire infestation"..' Pulling out onto the road, of the lay by she turned the truck around, aheading nd headed back in the direction she had just come from. If she didn't stop, she would beat the brothers there and it wasn't like she would have to, or need to, stop. The tank was full and she didn't sleep all that much these days, the only problem would be food and she could get that anywhere any time.

Glancing up into the rear view mirror, her green eyes locked with the pale blue ones of her captives, trapping him in her gaze. Smiling softly at him, she spoke just as gently , as if she was talking to a small child and not a grown man. "'Heay, shhh, it's okay. It will all be over soon, I promise. I' will make it all better, I swear. , I just need to grab someone to eat first"..'

As she spoke, the colour drained from her eyes, her pupils expanding and, leaving them glassy, black, pools of nothingness. The young man began to struggle against his bonds once more, the rope digging into his skin and rubbing the flesh raw., Hhis terrified scream muffled behind the cloth tied across his mouth. Tears felel from his wide, panicked eyes as he thrashed against his bonds, feet slamming against the door in a desperate attempt to get free.

Laughing gently, Hope returned her gaze to the road ahead of her, turning the music up as loud as it would go until the man's screams where nothing but barely audible background noise. Smiling widely, Hope tried to savour the feeling of anticipation of what was to comee welling up inside of her.

Tapping her fingers along to the beat she began to sing along to _You Shook Me All Night Long_. She loved the song, knew the words of by heart, but it would sound so much better out of a nicer, more classic car. Something sleek and black from 1967 and she knew just where to find one.

She was so close she could practically taste her success already and, if theirre small interaction earlier was anything to go by, gaining the Winchester's' trust was going to be a lot easier than she had originally thought. She would have to put a stop to the flirting though, it just wasn't right.


	6. Tell Me Your Not Thinking The Same

A/N: So, yet again, here we are and look, I found some more plot. As always, I own none of the characters. I hope you enjoy this one. Please review, I mean it, really; please, please, please review no one seems interested and I would like to know what I am doing wrong. I hope you have a lovely day, night or afternoon whichever one may apply. All the best, thanks, and if you made it this far - YAY!

**Tell Me You're Not Thinking The Same**

Absent-mindedly slamming the Impala door shut, Sam didn't even bother to look up at Dean's indignant grunt as he continued to read the local newspaper. Sam's eyes quickly scanned over the notice for a missing car and, chuckling, he chucked the paper across the seat at Dean, where it landed article-up on top of Dean's half eaten burger.

'Dude,' Dean whined, picking up the newspaper between the tips of his fingers, as if it was the scummiest thing in the world, ready to throw it back at Sam before the relevant article caught his attention. Flipping it round, Dean quickly read over the text, his eyes darting from one side of the page to the other, his frown deepening as he read.

'Think your girlfriend's been busy,' Sam teased.

Dean growled, as he shoved the paper back at Sam, before taking another bite out of his burger and making a show of glaring at the billboard across the road from them. The brothers had been on the road for four days now and, ever since Dean had finally managed to snarl out a comment about the strange feeling he had gotten about the young women they had encountered back in Portland, Sam had been teasing him mercilessly about it.

Sam had even gone as far as to start referring to her as Dean's girl but, in all fairness, Sam was doing this more for his own benefit than anything else simply because, every time he described the girl that way, Dean would get pissed off and start ranting about how he only needed one girlfriend and, as he already had Sam, he wasn't currently in the market for another. Every time Dean said something along these lines, even if it was said in grumbling and disgruntled tones, it made Sam's heart soar. Just knowing that this was enough for Dean, that _he_ was enough for Dean, made Sam feel lucky because knowing that he was all Dean wanted, even with all the stuff that was so clearly wrong with him and despite the taint to his soul, was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

'Well, she said she was getting a 1967 Mustang Fastback and for one to just disappear from a museum, it's kind of suspicious,' Sam pointed out.

Dean huffed scornfully before shoving the last of his burger into his mouth and wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. Dean showed his disdain for Sam's reasoning through his body language as he shoved the empty paper wrapper back into the takeout bag and threw it over his shoulder into the back of the car.

'Good job we're not cops then,' Dean snarked, as he started the car and pulled out of the small gas station; the music on the car's radio nothing more than a low murmur in the background. Scowling at his brother, Sam shook his head in annoyance at Dean's refusal to become concerned by the contents of the newspaper article but, then again, over the years the brothers had frequently found themselves in the position of needing to steal cars and then dump them, here, there, and everywhere, so Sam supposed they didn't really have much room to be judgmental of someone else doing the same thing.

Sam sighed as he let his mind wander back to the last few days and the seemingly impossible job they were attempting to work. Fort Worth had been a complete waste of time; the carved hand-print had been just that, a crude likeness of a human hand that had looked nowhere near as perfect, or as real, as the one they had seen back in Portland. So he and Dean had slunk back to the car, feeling dejected and at a loss for what to do, before wordlessly agreeing to turn around and head back for another look around the clearing in hopes that there was something they had missed.

Sinking back into his seat, Sam continued to flip through the newspaper, taking the opportunity to catch up on current affairs that he had missed over the last few weeks. Sam was just about ready to throw the paper into the backseat when the title of a small article towards the back of the paper caught his attention. He read over article quickly before re-reading it twice more, distrust and anger putting him on edge.

Sam turned to look at Dean. 'What colour was that truck little Miss Mysterious was driving?' he asked, not even bothering to explain who he was talking about, knowing that Dean would understand who he meant. After all, she was the thing they talked about most at the moment, next to that stupid hand-print.

Shooting Sam a questioning glance out of the corner of his eye, Dean shrugged as best as he could. 'Red,' he responded. 'Why?'

'Because four days ago, Tad Anderson was reported missing when he failed to make it home from work in Portland.' Sam looked expectantly at Dean, waiting for him to put all the pieces together, but when Dean shot him a confused glance Sam groaned in frustration. He didn't know if Dean was purposely being dense to annoy him or if his big brother really couldn't see the connection.

'Tad was found last night, in his red Ford truck, two miles from here.' Sam raised both his eyebrows at Dean waiting for his brother to reach the same conclusion he had, to realise that it looked like they had been played by someone who had almost been able to anticipate their next move.

'So she's a car thief and she likes to kidnap people,' Dean said. 'Sam, that's a problem for the police, it's got nothing to do with us.'

Groaning, Sam threw the paper at Dean, his brother's lack of concern beginning to annoy him. Sam didn't know if Dean couldn't see could the significance in the newspaper story, or if Hope had been so convincing for Dean that it stopped him from suspecting her, but if Dean didn't start taking this seriously, Sam was going to punch him.

'Ok, so how about this then,' Sam said from between clenched teeth, 'when he finally came around, all Tad could talk about were the kidnapper's completely black eyes and a blinding white heat burning inside of him. Oh, and did I mention he has half a hand print burned onto the side of his _face_?'

Dean's head snapped round, eyes wide and, finally, he was paying full attention to what Sam was saying. Sam knew he was looking at Dean as if his brother was an idiot but sometimes Dean managed to amaze Sam with how far outside the law some people had to go before Dean saw their behaviour as abnormal. Sam was sure that growing up as the son of a supernatural-hunting outlaw had badly skewed Dean's perception of acceptable behaviour but, then again, Sam (with four years of living a normal life at Stanford under his belt) hadn't seen anything wrong with Hope either, not until the evidence was right in front of him anyway.

They had both been played, lured in by a shy smile and wide eyes. It wouldn't be the first time the big bad had taken to wearing the body of a young women, playing the part of a sweet, innocent, little thing but to have it paraded around in front of their faces, flaunting its disguise, probably testing it out and who better to try it out on than hunters? And he and Dean had just let her swan off. She had probably had that poor man tied up in the back of the truck the whole time she had been flirting with Dean.

'Well, that's worth a look,' Dean said, as he turned his attention back to the road, his brow furrowed as he glared at the asphalt.

Sighing, Sam re-read the article but it didn't say much more than crazy man found almost two thousand miles away from his home.

'So where is the guy?'

Dean's rough voice cut through Sam's musings. Quickly, Sam glanced through the text of the short article looking for the information Dean had requested. 'Uh…Stormont-Vail, Topeka' he answered. Sam glanced up at his brother and caught him nodding his head, his eyes never leaving the road. Dean looked troubled, like there was something he couldn't quite wrap his mind around, and Sam had a small suspicion it was a green-eyed, brown-haired woman that went by the name of Hope.

Shifting his gaze back to the road, Sam tried to think of the best way to approach the subject with Dean, knowing that if he said the wrong thing Dean would clam up and he would never know what was truly going on in his brother's head. More than once, Sam had lashed out in frustration, demanding to know things that Dean considered touchy or private subjects, and all that had got him was a scowling Dean and an utter refusal to say more than the few necessary words needed to communicate the basics.

'I should go...check it out then.'

The unexpected voice surprised them both and Dean swore loudly, wrenching the steering wheel to guide the car off to the side of the road and slamming his foot down hard on the brake pedal. The car skidded to a stop and Sam's hand automatically shot out, bracing him against the dashboard, as he was thrown forward. Once the car had stopped, the engine switched off, Dean spun around in his seat, anger rolling off of him and his green eyes dark with emotion, as he glared daggers at the angel now materialised in the back seat.

'Goddamn it, Cas, you could have killed us,' Dean yelled, his voice echoing around the small space of the car's interior and sounding twice as loud as it was.

Sam let his eyes slip closed for a moment, taking deep breaths as he waited for his heart to slow back down to its normal, steady beat, telling himself that Castiel wouldn't have let them crash and die.

'Do not blaspheme, Dean,' Castiel said.

Sam laughed weakly at Castiel's monotone reply, he couldn't help it really. Trust the angel to focus on Dean's swearing and not on the whole almost killing them bit. Sam heard Dean snarl in frustration and he opened his eyes just in time to see Dean spinning back around and starting the engine up. The Impala roared to life, as Dean applied his foot to the gas pedal forcefully, and the car pulled back onto the road. The loud rumble of the engine working to disperse Dean's anger even as he muttered to himself about stupid angels and their inability to use phones like normal people

Shaking his head at his brother, and the slightly disturbing relationship he had with his car, Sam twisted round in his seat, until his back was pressed against the cool glass of the passenger-side window, so he could get a better look at the angel behind him.

Castiel looked the same as always, his dark hair sticking up slightly, blue eyes bright yet completely devoid of anything apart from seriousness, his lips set in a grim line as he stared out the windshield ahead of them as though he was seeing something neither of them could, his ever-present 5 o'clock shadow covering his set jaw. The angel's vessel was attractive, Sam could admit that, if you were into that whole stern, vacant, squish-you-like-a-bug, but with a slight tinge of innocence and naivety, thing Cas had going on. Jimmy Novak had been easier to understand, he had been lived-in and substantial, full of life and emotion, and though Sam thought of Castiel as an individual in his own right, the angel just didn't have that spark it took to make a connection. Even demons managed to get that little human _thing_ down to an art but Sam supposed it worked to their advantage, after all, if they could make you believe in that very basic lie it would be easier to convince you to believe the bigger lies and to give up your soul.

Dean was the first to break the silence, 'No offence, Cas but your people skills make a rock look like a soft, fluffy pillow. You're more likely to make this guy think he's crazier than he already does.'

Sam glared at Dean. Okay, he would admit that Castiel was incredibly socially-awkward but that did not mean Dean had to go around pointing it out every chance he got, it was…mean. Sam knew that the angel didn't even understand that Dean was mocking him but, still, it was too easy a shot, like shooting fish in a barrel, and Sam had thought Dean would have gotten over Castiel's inexperience with human interaction by now.

Dean smirked and winked at Sam before he looked at Castiel in the rear-view mirror. 'Why don't you let us do all the sweet-talking. You just sit back and enjoy the ride.'

Sam glanced behind him and saw that, just as he had been expecting, the angel looked more confused than anything else.

Cocking his head to the side, Cas sank back into the rear bench-seat, taking Dean's words at face value. Laughing gently at Castiel's innocence, Sam swivelled back around to look out the windshield, making himself more comfortable in the small space. The three of them sat in silence, the noise of the Impala's engine the only sound.

Sam watched the world pass by and wondered how his life had become this big, confusing mess. How fucking his brother, and spending time with an angel, had become normal to him. Sighing, he let his eyes slip closed, let his mind slip into that place it always went when he craved solitude. He loved Dean, he was _in love_ with him; he knew that. Sam loved Dean more than anything else in his sad, broken little world, and that included life, but no matter how hard he tried he had never been able to shake the feeling that he was stopping Dean from having a normal life, stopping him from living the safer life that his brother had earned and that he truly deserved.

Back before things had gone badly wrong for them and they'd had to go back on the run, Dean had seemed like he was building a life with Lisa and Ben until Sam had shown up, soulless and uncaring, and dragged Dean back into a life of horror and danger after Dean had been out, had been free. Dean had got himself a normal family, one that wouldn't put him in jeopardy or betray him, and he had looked convincing at playing the part of a caring father and loving boyfriend. It hurt Sam to think that he was the reason Dean didn't have that option anymore, hurt him to think that it was him stopping Dean from having that in his life, because Sam _knew_ that Dean would make a great dad. When they had been growing up together in grotty motels and on the road, Dean had always been a devoted older brother and Sam knew that Dean would dote on a kid like there was no tomorrow. He would teach it how to drive, how to really love building things, and how to take care of the car. Show it how to defend itself against all the bad things in the world, protecting it fiercely, just like he had with Sam.

When Sam felt like this, he could picture it all clearly: Dean standing outside a suburban house with a white picket-fence and a greener-then-green lawn. Arms spread wide as he chased happily after a small boy whose smile could charm the birds down from the trees, and cookies from the neighbours, just like his dad's could. A picture-perfect happy family, just like Dean had spent years protesting would drive him crazy but that Sam had hidden in the shadows and watched him living with Lisa.

Letting out a small huff, Sam let his head fall against the cool glass and tried to shove his painful thoughts away. Sometimes it was too easy to torture himself with it, to scratch and poke at the dark stain of guilt he felt at being a weight around Dean's neck, at being the thing that held Dean back from making different choices. Sam's mental picture of Dean living a perfect, normal life was just that; a nice image. One that he took out and examined from time to time, mostly when he was feeling guilty and worthless, but one that Sam knew, deep down, could never be a reality. He and Dean had both tried getting out of the life (Sam with Jess and Dean with Lisa) and they had both failed. Hunting was a life you never really escaped unless you got killed on the job or a miracle slapped you round the face.

Unfortunately for them, the Winchesters were number one on the big book of monsters' hit list, and even if they stopped actively hunting it didn't mean that things wouldn't still come looking for them, which meant putting other people in danger. The sad truth was that this would always be their life and the only way they would be getting out of it was when they were six feet under. If they were lucky.

But then again Sam only needed to get Dean out, what happened to him was irrelevant.


	7. The Madness Behind Sanity

A/N: So, yet again, here we are and look! I found some more plot. As always, I own none of the characters. I hope you enjoy this one. Please review, I mean it really; please, please, please review. Nno one seems interested and I would like to know what I am doing wrong. I hope you have a lovely day, night or afternoon witch ever one may apply. All the best, thanks and if you made it this far YAY! Please review, please… for me?

**The Madness Behind Sanity**

It didn't take much for Sam and Dean to get in to see Tad Anderson. They showed up at the hospital in theirre freshly cleaned suits, flasheding theirre fake FBI badges, and fed the hospital staff a relatively convincingspewing some bull story about them following up on a set of similar cases across the country. It didn't take long for them to and they were being whisked away down corridors, and up in elevators, by a helpful nurse before before being left to their own devices outside Tad'shis room.

Dean had offered up a quick prayer to Castiel, and he used the term 'prayer' very loosely, calling himhim down to the floor they were on. When the angel blinked into existence beside them, then the three of them where slipped ping into Tad'shis small, private et room, making sure to locking the door behind them.

For someone who had been abducted and spent four days held against his will, Tad Anderson looked remarkably well. , Dean would even go as far as to say the man he looked the perfect ipicture of n pretty good health if it wasn't for the two obvious finger marks that had been burned into the right side of his temple.

Sam got the ball rolling. "'Good afternoon, Mr Anderson. I'm agent Smith, and these are my colleagues: Aes agents Jones and Novak". .' Sam smiled reassuringly as he spoke, flashing his badge and gesturing waving his large hand towards the other two men as he introduced them. Sam made sure that eEverything about him was calm, open, and friendly.

Dean didn't miss the slight shift in Castiel's stance as Sam used hishis vessel's real name and, not for the first time, Deanhe wondered if Jimmy Novak was still in there somewhere,. bBuried deep under the angel controlling his body, but still there nonethe the less. Dean had often wondered what it was like to be, trapped and unable to do anything but watch as someone else, _something_ else used and abused yourhis body. To be honest, Dean didn't see much difference between angelic vessels and Just like when a demondemonic possession even though angels, being the bureaucrats that they were, waited for you possesses you except with to an angel you had to agree to that shit. It made Dean sick to think that good-intentioned people You had to willingly give angelsthem everything they you were, and let the angelsm destroy it, as they carried out whatever their heavenly mission was on Earth. Ultimately, it didn't matter whether you had a demon or an angel riding your body, the end result was the same: the life you had was gone forever.

Dean took a deep breath, to dispel the briefly distracting thoughts, and smiled, in what he hoped was a reassuring way., He noddeding his head byin way of a greeting, as Tad sat up and turned to look at him before turning he turned wide, blue eyes to Castiel. Thankfully, the angel managed to awkwardly nod incline his head towards Anderson in way of greeting, mimicking Dean's small movement.

"'We just need to ask you some questions about your kidnapping". .' Sam said.

Tad slowly turned his head back round to look at Sam, his gaze seemed unsure and worried, as he spoke, fixing him with his wide doe like eyes and. Dean took the opportunity to take a good look at thise young man sitting in athe small hospital bed, with athe dim bedside-lampight of the dying bulb casting the room in sickly a sort of hazy light.

Anderson'sHis skin was pale and scattered with freckles, his eyes a deep storm blue and . hHis medium-lengthshort, blond hair was tightly curlycurled .in When he sat up, little ringlets, stuckicking up in every direction making it look like he had a bird's nest on his head. He didn't look any older than 19, maybe 20 at a push, and his frame frame was thin and wirerywiry, like he still needed to grow into it. It reminded Dean ,of just like how Sam had lookedbeen after hisbefore his freak massive growth spurt when he wasat the age of 16.

Sam moved closer to the hospital bed and spoke gently. "'What can you remember about the night you where taken?"'

Sam was using that gentlethe, understanding voice that he only ever worked so effectively saved when he used it forfor talking to witnesses. , the one that made Dean want to gag half the time. DeanHe hated wasn't fond of Sam using thatthat voice; successful as it was in producing information, it often , made Dean feel uncomfortable. It unnerved Dean hated how Sam speaking to it seemed to make people like that made them just open up and spill their gutsto Sam without a second thought to the consequences. Dean definitely preferred Sam to use his Jedi voice-powers on strangers; he hHated itthat when Sam it was directed that voice at him him because it made Dean reallyhim want to tell Sam everything he tried so hard to kepept hidden, deep down inside.

Moving to lLeaning against the the stark- white back wall of the room, Dean pulled out a pen and a small note pad and pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, getting ready to write down anything that he might beconsider useful or, failing that, he could always distract himself from the effect of Sam's voice by doodlinge a little cartoon of Sam's and Castiel's playing hug chase. Dean had been developing the themes of his doodles and, lately, doodle-Sam was often normally the one running away, screaming out for Dean to save him - like the little damsel in distress that he was -, whilest cartoon-Cas usually stood glowering andCas pouted in the corner, confused as to why Sam just refused towouldn't let Cashim engage in the human custom of hugginglove him.

Dean watched as Tad's eyes shifted nervously from Sam - who, as the 'responsible one' of their group, had taken the only chair in the room and sat that was next to the young man's bed,, all the better to dazzle the poor, unsuspecting kid with his puppy dog eyeultra-sympathetic gazes of doom -, to stareir uneasily at Castiel who hadn't yet moved from the spot in the middle of the room, where he had stopped once they came in, and who was staring intentlyblankly at the poor guy.

Shifting nervously on the bed, Tad quickly returned his gaze to Sam, his panic fading slightly as he launched into his story, his voice soft and full of doubt , as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"'I was driving home, running late because. I'd beengot held up at the hardware store helping an some old lady with taking her shopping to her car from the store next door… because of the rain, y'known. It'd been. It was pissing buckets, the worst I'd I have ever seen it.' He took a deep breath before continuing. 'I looked up from tuning the car radio and _sShe_ was just...she was just standing there, in the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere. It was the middle of nowhere, so I stopped, and when I spoke to her sShe said she' had been hiking when the storm hit, and that she just needed a ride lift to the nearest motel so she could wait out the storm. I didn't think anything was wrong - I just opened the truck door and let her in.' His face grimaced as he spoke, 'I thought I was helping her, you know? Doing my good deed for the dayJust trying to be nice". .'

Tad closed his eyesscrewed his face up slightly in concentration, his brows furrowing as if he was trying hard to remember something. He opened them again and looked is eyes darted briefly to Castiel, regarding him with a questioning gaze, before he shook his head, as if it would help clear his mind, and turneding his attention back to Sam, smiling softly up at him.

Dean watched Sam sSmileing reassuringlyy back at the other man and Sam nod ded his encouragement. He could see Sam'sHis pen movinged quickly over his own notepadpad and Dean knew Samhe was writing down everything the guy was saying, knew he was making little notes about Tad'shis behaviour, in e ncase this really did become a country- wide thing and he had to compare witness statements and the witnesses themselves.

Though Dean often found Sam's tremendousfreaky need to know _everything,_ about what they were working on at that momentworking on, in time annoying and detrimental to his gigantic chances of sex - a researching Sam was a preoccupied Sam; a Sam not in the mood to lose time fooling around with his brother in bed -sex drive Sam's itcompulsive note-taking often came in useful and, although Dean would never admit it to his brother's face, it had saved theirhis sorry asses more than once and probably would again.

That didn't mean Deanhe had to like the amount of attention Samhe was showing the kid and that Deanhe couldn't get slightly miffedjealous byof all the smiling and the way Sam was looking at Anderson, g up all coyly through his lashes, practically screaming naivenaive flirting, and the kid was just eating it up.

Givinglaring at the back of hishis brother's head a censuring glare, Dean shifted his glanced down at his notepad and the cartoon- Sam that was so close to reaching his cartoon- Dean. Smirking, Dean he quickly drew a door around his cartoon mself, and the next sketch showeding cartoon- Sam pounding on a closed door, as cartoon Dean's doodled avatar leaned against the other side inspecting his nails, and a cartoon- Cas moved inexorably gleefully about to throw his arms around a reluctant Sam. It was a small, childish, and privateet form of punishmentjustice but Dean would take it, for now.

Shifting his attention back to what was happening in the room Dean heard Sam trying for more information.

"'What about after that?' Sam asked. 'Do you know what happened in those four days you were missing?"' Sam shifted forward slightly, his expressionface all serious again, his pen poised at the ready for whateverto note down anything useful Tad would say next, ready to captureing everywhat word Tadhe said, exactly how he said it.

Tad shook his head to indicate he had no further information for in what Dean found himself a little startled at how could only describe as in an enthusiastic way,the kid was being in getting across his point; his head shook so hairanimatedly that his hair kept falling down intoaround his eyes. He looked so confused in that moment that Dean couldn't help but feelfelt kind of sorry for the guy. After all, it wasn't the kid's his fault this had happened to him.

Tad spoke quietly, almost hesitantly. "'She was looking for something, or… was it someone ,maybe… she had to find it, whatever it was, and fast". .'

Sam shot Dean a concerned look over his shoulder, their eyes meetingcommunicating his worry silently in the Winchesters' private language of glances, and Dean knew that he and his brother hey were thinking the same thing, except that Dean was growing pretty sure that Sam already had a name in mind for thise thing that Castiel had themthere where hunting, and.

wWhatever their targete thing was after searching for couldn't be good. None ofthing the big bad's they'd faced in the past had ever wanted puppies and rainbows; for them, it was all about ruling or ending the worldever was. They Dean knew they needed to find whatever Tad's abductorit was after, fast, and hopefully before the kidnapping, and possibly time-j jumping, mystery onster women could track it down, because who knew the kind of damage a big badit could do once they it found had it. He and SamThey just needed to find the thingit as soon as possible and knowing exactly what it was that Tad's kidnappershe was looking for would be a great help right about now.

Sam shifted forward slightly in his seat, until he was perched right on the edge, his eyes wide and full of pleading expressiong, practically begging Tad for something substantial that could help them.

"'Can you remember _anything_ about her?' he asked. 'What she looked like, how she spoke, _anything_ that stood out to you?"' There was a slight edge of desperation to Sam's voice now, pushing for any some factssort of information that would confirm his suspicions and tie Hope to the scene of Tad's abduction. Dean knew that Sam wanted something that would, finally and explicitly marking _her_ out as the monster they were after.

Sighing, Dean shifted against the wall, moving his weight from one foot to the other. He couldn't understand why, after one meeting and a newspaper article, Sam was so sure that Hope she was connected to this hunt that Castiel had started them on. Bbut, then again, Deanhe couldn't fully explain why he was so sure that Hope wasn't involvedshe wasn't. All he could point to was a

He just had this feeling, deep in his gut, that they weren't getting the whole picture. His instincts told him , that they were missing the an important part of the story and that finding out who had come through that rip in time was only the tip of the iceberg because, after that,g, that there would be a lot more to learn after. Dean had no specific facts on which to base his gut feelings but his hunter's instincts had served him well in the past and he wasn't about to discount them now.

Tad took a deep breath before responding to Sam's impassioned request for additional information. "'Her eyes they were black, like coal, and her body was this mass of bright, white light,' he volunteered,. 'but her voiceShe sounded normal, kind sort of like my cousin from Austin, y'know?. And Though she did keptep apologising, a lot, for like… everything". .'

Dean watched as Sam eyes widened slightly, those last few words providing the younger Winchesterhim with the one thing he had been after since they had entered the room.

Mentally cursing the kid for his choice of words, Dean thought back to Hope, the young womaen that he and Sam had meet only a few days ago. Even though they'd only had a short conversation sShe had said sorryapologised a lot and, now that he really thought about it, her her accent had had a sort of Ssouthern twang to it. Similar thought they might be, these facts but that didn't mean Tad's kidnapperit had to be herr, ; it didn't didn't mean that Dean had to be wrong in thinking better of her than Sam.

Sam smiled brightly at Tad, and straightened his posture in the chair. He quickly slippeding his pen and notepad back into the inside pocket of his jacket, and . nNoddeding his head slightly, before Sam waved a hand towards gesturing towards Tad's facehead as he straightened in the chair. "'Would you mind if I took a photo?"' he Sam asked, extending his arm and pointinged with two fingers towards the burn marks on the side of Tad's head with two fingers, his arm extended towards him. No one missed the way Tadhe flinched back slightly at the gesture, as if he was afraid Sam could actually do some damage by just waving his two fingers around.

Chewing nervously on his lip, Tad took a moment to think before noddinged his head in agreement. Slowly, he, turned his heading towards the side so Sam could get a better look at the two half- finger printsfingerprints that had been burned into his right temple, just slightly above his eye.

Wordlessly, Sam stood up and pulledp, pulling his phone from the pocket he had just shoved his notepad into. Holding the small, black phone in both his hands he extended his arms, bringing the phone closer to the boy's face. Tad squeezed his eyes shut as if anticipating a physical blow, biting down harder on his bottom lip and grimacing in displeasure at Sam's physical proximity.

The phone's bright flash briefly illuminated the young man's face, room casting a shadow on the wall behind his head, casting long shadows of its occupants up the walls.

Photograph taken, Sam stepped back. "'Thank you, Mr Anderson". , he said, gently, and aAs soon as the words had left his mouth, Sam was moving, shoving the phone back into his pocket and stepping round the chair, quick to make his escape now that he had what he needed. Dean noted that Sam

's expressionHe looked somewhere between crestfallen and annoyed and deflated, almost like someone had kicked his puppy so, now, he was gearing up to going to go kick them, twice as hard and somewhere where it would really hurt. Biting down on the inside of his lip, Dean made a silent plea that they wouldn't run into the young womenHope again, until all this was sorted out, because Sam would take a hell of a lot of holding back from taking actioncrucify her if they did.

"'I'm not crazy". ,' Tad mumbled from the bed and, once again Dean was struck with a small wave of pity for the young man. Dean didn't know for certain if what Tad had he seen was supernatural or if the young man he had just imagined it as a way to cope with what he had been through. Bbut Tad had actually told people what he saw and Dean knew that for the rest of his life, people were going to think Tad washim crazy because of it , whatever it was.

"'No one said you were". ,' Dean responded, flashing ed the young man withhim a tight bright smile as he shoved his own notepad back into his jacket pocket., He pusheding off the wall and tookaking the few steps forward to grasp the still-silent angelCas by the arm, dragging him off away from the spot, from which he hadn't movedd from since they entered the room,got there and towards the door.

"'Fort Worth". .'

Dean froze ast Tad's softly spoken words filled the room., To Dean, those two words felt eling like they weighed a tone. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, arm outstretched towards the door handle, quickly he turnedspun around and lookeding at Dean with wide, surprised eyes.

Letting go of Castiel's arm, Dean turned to level Tad with a hard stare at Tad. The young man had moved up the bed, his thin small frame huddled up against the headboard, long arms wrapped around his legs pulling them tight against his chest.

"'I'm sorry, what?"' Dean asked, the annoyed tone of his

Dean's annoyed voice cutting through the Tad's withdrawn eerie silence, drawing the man'Tad's attention back to them and away from the chair beside thenext to his bed that he had been staring at with a vacant look in his eyes. Tad's eyes flickered nervously around the room before concentratinglanding on a spot just over Dean's right shoulder that Deanhe just knew had to containwas Sam's head with its 'do whatever I wantpuppy dog 'do whatever I want' face.

"'Fort Worth, Texas,' Tad said, softly.. 'Whatever she was looking for, that's where she was going". .'

Dean felt a chill run down his spine, dread wrapping around him and squeezing tightly. Nodding his head brusquely in thanks, Dean spun round and quickly ushered his companions the other two out through the door and back into the hospital corridor., Tad's faint, repeated whisper of 'not crazy' was the last thing they heard before the door clicked shut.

As soon as they were in the corridor, Dean slammed his fist into the wall, the loud thud drawing the attention of a passing nurse. Sam unleashed his most sympathetic smile on her and she nodded briefly before she quickly dartinged around the corner towards the nurses' station.

"'Damn it". !' Dean's rough voice sounded loud in echoed around the now empty corridor, his hand throbbeding as the skin stretchinged tight over his knuckles started to turn an angry shade of red.

Sam placed his large hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing gently in an attempt to soothe his older brother's tension. Sighing, Dean felt himself begin to relax a littleing under Sam's touch, the anger starting to draining from him as if Sam was sucking it out of his bodyfrom him. However, the moment was soon interrupted by the sound of Castiel's voice.

"'I do not understand, Dean,' he said. .' This is bad?"'

Turning his head slightly, Dean shrugged out of Sam's grasp and turneding his full attention to Castiel. The angel stood in the middle of the corridor,, wearing a a slightly confused look that Dean was all too used to seeing on thehis face of the angelic vessel, as he stared at them. Waving his handGesturing back atowards the door they had just come through, Dean practically growled out his answer,. "'We were just came from Fort ". '

"'Why?"' Castiel asked.

Sighing at the question the angel asked most frequently, asked Sam shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and jerked his head in the direction of the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Nodding his head in agreement, Dean started to follow his brother notwithout even bothering to check if the angel Cas was following along behind themhim or not.

Sam nudged the door to the stairs open with his shoulder, and stood holding it open for the other two as he wo, his eyes glanceddarting around the stairwell to , makeing sure that they were alone and he could talk freely. Once they were making their way down the stairs to the underground parking structure'scar park entrance, at the bottom Sam quickly overtook Dean and the angel, thanks to his longer legs, and hestarted to spokeeak , talking to Castiel over his shoulder as he quickly overtaken them with his freakishly long legs.

"'Remember that photo I showed you, theat one of the rock we found in that clearing in Portland?' he began. 'We'll we found another one like it on. It's being displayed at the Fort Worth Museum of Science and History but..."'

Castiel was gone bBefore Sam could finish explaining, Castiel was gone, disappearing off the steps, the soft sound of feathers ruffling was the only warning they got before he disappearedwas gone.

Throwing his hands up in the air Sam stopped and threw his hands up in the air in frustration; he, turned ing to glare at the spot where the angel had just been. "'...it was a complete waste of time". ,' he finished, his jaw clenching with emotion.

Dean couldn't help but bark out a brief laugh, shaking his head at his brother's obvious annoyance. Though he couldn't understandNo matter how much exposure the Winchesters had had to Castiel's disappearing trick, Cas just upping and leaving whenever he wanted, irrespective of what they were doing at the time, was harder for Sam to deal with because he had a lower tolerance for bad manners than how Dean, or so Sam said. In Dean's opinion, Sam's bossy, control-freak tendencies had a bigger role to play in his younger brother's frustration with the angel's behaviour. his brother wasn't used to Cas just upping and leaving whenever he wanted no matter what they were in the middle of.

"'Why does he always do that". ?' Sam growled, seemingly to no one in particular

It wasn't a question so Dean didn't even bother to answer back. It was more of a statement just spoken out loud to no one in particular. Just Samrespond, he stayed quiet for a moment or two, to let Sam try toing to vent some of the frustration that Castiel always managed to make him feel.

After Sam had ground his teeth, and made some interesting angry noises for a while, Dean judged it time to intervene and change Sam's mood before his younger brother worked himself into a full-on snit. "'Come on, Pprincess, let's put those over-developed jaw muscles of yours to work and go get some dinner,' Dean said, slapping Sam's ass as he walked past him and towards the stairs. ' Then we'llthen head back to the motel, . We can paint some anti- Cas symbols on _every_ flat surface, and then you can show me just how flexible you really are". ,' he teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, as he practically bounced down the stairs Dean practically bounced down the stairs, slapping Sam's ass as he went past, wiggling his eyebrow suggestively.

Sam looked at Dean with a cynicaldisbelieving glintexpression in his eyes. "'Really?"' he asked, his voice sounding exasperated at his older brother's behaviour.

Dean shrugged as he continued to make his way down the stairs.,

Sam's sceptical voice echoed after himing downaround the stairwell, . "'You are unbelievable, Dean!". '

Dean smiled just that little bit wider:. Sam always said the same thing but he never really complained when they actually got down and dirty, and Dean knew it was because he craved it just as much as Deanhe did.

Sam's quick and heavy footsteps echoed around the stairwell, mixing with Dean's and making it sound like tthat there wawas a small army ofs twenty people descending down the stairs inand notstead of just the two of them. Stopping abruptly, Dean turned spun around to look behind him, flashing Sam his best flirtatious smile. "'You say that, Sammy,' he drawled, 'but I guarantee that you' are thinking of all the ways I could bend you over, right about now". .'

As Dean was spoke,eaking Sam came to a stop on the step above him, his eyes darkening with lust at every word that fell from his older brother's lips. Enjoying himself, and Sammy's reaction, Dean smiled Smiling wickedly. He flicked the tip of his tongue out to Dean licked at his top lips suggestivelyteasingly and moved closer into Sam's personal space, slipping a hand, one hand slipping round behind Sam to cup a firmSam's ass-cheek. Dean, squeeziedng tightly. and Sam's eyes flickered slammed closed, a lowdeep groan forcing its way past his clenched teeth.

Dean knew that Sam understood exactly what DeanDean was indicating as being on the menu when they returned to their motel room, and he knew it that would get Sam hot., Aafter all, it was a rare occasion when Deanhe got down on his knees and got Sam off with his mouth, he preferredpreferring to have Sam in that position instead. He His younger brother looked so pretty on his knees, between Dean's legs, and he never complained;, always more than willing to be the one getting his face fucked.

Laughing gently, Dean pulled away from Sam as his phone began to buzz insistently in his pocket. Sam's eyes fluttered open, a look of frustrated longing in his dark eyes. As Dean stepped backwards, Sam'sHis large hands shot outreached towards him Dean as he stepped back in a futile attempt to keep his brother close. Dean smiled at Sam's reaction and pPulleding his phone out from inside his jacket, Dean briefly glancinged at the caller ID before he raised it to his ear.

"'Heay, Bobby". ,' he said, knowing his voice Dean knew he sounded way to happy but he didn't carwas probably giving away how turned on he felte. All that mattered, right now, was the promise he had just He had given Sam. and that was all that mattered and as soon The feeling of anticipation grew, low in his belly, as he briefly considered what else he might do with Sam when tas they were back at the motel. The less than satisfying outcome from interviewing Tad Anderson left he Dean needing to work off some frustration and nervous energy, so he intended to would have Samhim in the most physical way he could and there was nothing Deanhe liked doing more with his free time.

Glancing Eyeing up at his brother, Dean bit his lower lip before teasingly licking his top lip againran his tongue over his lips, watching asas Sam's hungry eyes dropped to his lips focus onwatching the action, his own tongue slipping out from between his slightly parted lips to mirroring what Dean had just done.

Bobby's rough voice pulled Deanhim away from looking at his clearly interested brother and back to the conversation he was supposed to be having. Nodding his head slightly, Dean hummed in agreement to the questionwhatever it was that Bobby had just asked him. Up until that point, hbut he hadn't really been paying that muchgiving the conversation his complete attention and he decided that he better not piss off Bobby because they might need his help later on with tracking down Castiel's rock-marking baddie. so he could have just agreed to have a threesome with him and Cas for all he knew. Witch was a really disturbing thought and he never wanted to go there again because everything about that was just wrong.

A threesome with Sammy and Cas though, that had potential.

Sam's eyes never left Dean'shis lips as hee spoke with Bobby. Sam , watcheding them as his brother's mouth they formed words and sounds, his eyes getting darker with every sweep Dean's tongue made over them. It filled Dean with a sense of power, knowing that such a simple act could get Sam so worked up, practically ready to fall to his knees and start begging for it, for Dean. DeanHe loved knowing he could do that to him, that he had that power over Sam.

With a final word of thanks to Bobby for the information he was relaying, Dean hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, smiling up at Sam as if Christmas had come early.

"'What have you done?"' Sam whined. He would deny it, if asked, but his tone of voice had definitely wandered into 'sounding like a gone all high and girlyfrustrated teenager' territory and Dean would take the piss outtease of him for it, a later date, when he wasn't so interested in keeping his sex life active.

Dean knew what he was about to do could be considered cruel, and , unnecessarily mean especially after getting Sam all worked up and wantinggagging , for it but hehe never could resist an opportunity to keep Sam on edge. Dean enjoyed, making Samhim waitsuffer until he was quite literally begging on hands and knees for Dean to take him, fuck him, bite him to make him bleed and scream, make him forget how to breathe and just end his suffering.

When Sam got like that, it It always did things to Dean that he wasn't too comfortable thinking about. Tto have Sam at his mercy, giving up complete control to him, with . aAll that power and strength just shimmering under his younger brother's skin, and Sam just would just laying there, only moving when Dean gave him the order., Ddoing anything and everything Dean asked of him, simply because it was Dean asking. No one else got to see that, got to have that power over Sam:. iIt was all for Dean and he really didn't share well.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. "'Bobby found us a job". ,' he said, 'so we need to get going, now.' HeDean didn't wait to see Sam's reaction, instead he darteding down the last few steps and burst ing out ut throughoff the exitdoor that lead to the parking garage, eager to get back to the grounding familiarity ofto the Impala. The sooner they hit the road, the sooner they could get this new job over and done with.

Sam sighed and ran his hands through his hair before following Dean to the car. Dean smiled to himself at Sam's body language; Sam knew the game by now, knew the rules he had to play by when Dean got like this. Sure, he would do his best to work on Dean, to try and change Deanhis's mind, t. o try and mMake Deanhim take himSam, one way or another, before Bobby's new the job was over and done withth. But Sam also knew that, when Dean felt like this, but that was half the funhalf the fun for him was, watching his Sammy squirm until he couldn'the just couldn't take any more.

It would be torture for the both of them - but also it wnothing like torture in comparison to what they had both endured during their experiences in Hell - and the building anticipationould would make the reward at the end of another the, hopefully, successful hunt that much sweeter. Just as long as they remembered to still put up the stupid anti- angel signs,. Dean really didn't feel like taking his turn at having having 'the talk' with the asexualnaive angel, and explaining to him that what daddy was doing with moummy was perfectly natural. Well almost,. iIt wasn't natural pretty unnatural that Sam's spine was so flexible and he could bend that much.. And if the angel just so happened to drop by he might be able to make some headway with that threesome idea.

Smiling brightly, Dean pulled his keys out of his pants trouser pocket. He had things toa lot to think about, on the drive back to the motel, that wereas most certainly all about work the job Bobby had given them and most definitely not about the look on Sam's face when Dean told him about his flittle uture plans for what hidea and most definitely not on what he could get Sam, and his flexible spine, to do with the angel.


	8. Blow Me Away

A/N: So yet again here we are sorry it took so long my lap top broke and I mean its fucked lost everything on it and then I had to wait for my brother to fuck off out the guest room so I could get my hands on the family computer. Just so you know there is some Twilight bashing in this chap and a little Goth hate but they are not my personal opinions I just thought it would be the sort of thing Dean would think. Oh and this one is a LONG one I mean 15 pages long.

As always I own none of the characters. I hope you enjoy this one. Please review I mean it really please, please, please review no one seems interested and I would like to know what I am doing wrong. I hope you have a lovely day, night or afternoon witch ever one may apply. All the best, thanks and if you made it this far YAY! Please review, please for me?

**Blow Me Away**

Dropping his keys onto the small table next to the hotel room door Dean yanked his tie lose, nimble fingers pushing the top two buttons of his white shirt free of their holes. The moment he had set foot in the room his body relaxed, all the unease he had been feeling since he had started looking into this job more closely fading as Sam's lingering sent invaded his senses.

It had been a long evening and considering they already knew what they were hunting it was slightly alarming that it had taken him so long to gather the information he needed on the victims. But he supposed it didn't help that he had to go through their families to get said information.

He had spent the better part of three hours trudging from one house to another talking to distressed mums and disapproving fathers, listening to tales of how there sweet and innocent daughters had turned into gothic horror clichés before disappearing off the face of the Earth.

Sighing Dean yanked the fridge door open, pulling a luke warm beer from inside. Leaning against the side he twisted the cap off, the ridged metal digging into his palm. Without even turning to look he threw it towards the sink, not really bothered if he missed because he knew that Sam would pick it up off the floor when he got back, his incapability to leave anything a mess getting the better of him.

As he stood staring out the grubby windows across from him Dean let his mind wonder back to the case, pulling up detail after detail until he knew everything important of by heart.

All the young girls had gone from being top of their classes, little Miss Virtues, rocking that standard Sunday school clothing range to skipping school, dressing like Morticia from the Adams Family and developing a taste for the undead.

Personally he blamed Twilight. That soppy teenage angst fest was deluding people as to what actual vampires were like. Kids these days thought it was all sparkling in the sunlight and driving expensive cars when the reality was that they would rip your fucking throat out before you could even say TwiHard.

What bothered him the most about the whole job though was that each house he had been too showed signs of a brake in, yet when he had mentioned it to the girl's parents they had looked at him as if he had grown an extra head, which wasn't unusual but still, he was pretending to be an FBI agent surely they would believe him about the brake in over anything else.

The signs had been small, a small scuff on the outside window ledge, the locks on the windows broken open. Things had been moved, gone through but the disturbance had been minimal. It had been the work of a professional and for the life of him Dean couldn't think who would want to break into a 16 year olds room, it just wasn't vampire style. Sure they had been looking for something but for what he didn't have a clue, it wasn't like the victims had anything in common. Well there was one thing.

Bringing the bottle to his lips Dean took a long swig, draining half the contents in one go. Now all he had to do was wait for Sam to get back from the police station with all the missing people reports and then the two of them could head down to the local Goth club that just happened to be the last place any of the girls had been seen alive.

Dean wasn't looking forward to it. He hated Goths. Hated there music, there sense of fashion, hated that the men looked just as much like the women and he always had to look at least twice before he started to flirt, hated that they seemed to have an unnatural obsession with black and all things undead. But then again on the plus side putting up with some Dracula wannabes wasn't really that much of a hardship when he got to see Sam squirm.

He didn't know what it was about Sam but for some reason the freaks just flocked to him, couldn't get enough of him. Maybe it was his natural broody looks and the constant glaring at anyone who came within a 5 foot radius of him but whatever it was they loved it.

Every straight women and every guy that was even the slightest bit bent in the joint would swarm to him and Sam hated it with a passion. Hated the attention, the advances, the inappropriate propositions and would spend the entire night pressed as close as humanly possible to Dean's side, draped around him like a coat.

And that meant that Dean got to be the envy of everyone in the shitty little club, taking advantage of Sam's discomfort in the worst possible way, enjoying the patrons heated gazes as they watched with rabid attention as Dean teased and taunted Sam, getting his blood pumping and gagging for it despite his embracement. He worked as pretty good bate as well.

The door swung open startling Dean from his thoughts. Snapping his head to the side Dean watched as Sam shouldered the door closed, eyes glued to the file he held in his hands. He had a look of utter concentration on his face, so consumed with whatever he was reading he didn't even notice Dean leaning against the counter.

Without once looking up from the file Sam wordlessly chucked his keys onto the same small table where Dean had thrown his own and moved towards the dining table that they had dragged out of the small kitchen area and had left in the middle of the only clear space in the room, just so Sam could spread his legs out when he sat at it without constantly kicking Dean in the ankles.

Dean wanted to scream at his brother's complete and utter lack of self preservation. What if he was a demon or an angry angel out for revenge? He would be a big old pile of dead Sam right about now and he wouldn't even know what had hit him.

The chair made a high pitched squeal as it scraped along the wooden floor as Sam pulled it out from under the table, his large frame dropping into it with a soft thud. Now that Sam had his back to him Dean thought about chucking his bottle of beer at his brother's head for being an ignorant little shit, but that would be a waste of perfectly good beer and Dean had spent a good few hours hustling pool to get the money to buy it.

Smirking to himself Dean pushed away from the counter and as silently as he could made his way towards his blissfully unaware brother. With every step closer he got to Sam the angrier he got. He had taught Sam better than this. Had taught him to sweep a room as soon as he opened the door, it didn't matter if it was there room or not, if Dean was there or not. Their lives depended on being cautious, on being prepared.

Gently placing the bottle on the side Dean slipped his gun free of its usual hiding place down the back of his trousers. He would show Sam, teach him a lesson, would make the stupid boy see his mistake and beg for forgiveness.

In one quick movement Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's long hair yanking his head back, pushing the barrel of his gun against the underside of his jaw. Sam's hands shot up, long fingers wrapping around Dean's wrists, nails digging into the soft flesh as he tried to tear his hands free, his panic filled eyes impossibly wide.

Pushing his gun harder into the underside of Sam's jaw Dean growled low in his throat, tugging just that little bit harder on Sam's hair causing him to gasp in pain. "You're getting sloppy Sammy". Sam's eyes softened with realisation, his grip on Dean's wrists loosening till his fingers where nothing more than a gentle cares. "Dean".

The relief in Sam's voice irritated Dean, slipping under his skin and clawing along the bone until all he wants is to smack the younger man across the face till he learned. Learned that what you can see, what you can hear wasn't necessarily what was supposed to be, all the things that Sam should already know.

Yanking Sam's head back even more Dean shoved his crotch forward, rubbing the back of Sam's head against the hard bone of his hip. "Sorry Dean's not available at the moment but feel free to leave a message and he'll get back to you as soon as possible". Sam's eyes widened in horror, his grip tightening on Dean's wrists once more as he tried to jerk away from his captor.

Laughing gently Dean pulled the gun away from under Sam's chin and slowly slid it up his jaw to rub at the flush skin under his right eye. Sam's breath caught in his throat, his body stilling as his dark eyes darted down to watch the silver barrel with trepidation as it rubbed dangerously close to his eye.

Dean wasn't sure why he did what he did next; maybe he had a few screws loose, most definitely. Maybe he was just that pissed off, most probably but the next thing he knew he was clicking the safety off, the sound echoing ominously around the room.

Sam's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, his tongue slipping out to wet his dried lips. Dean's cock gave a twitch of interest, a deliciously wicked thought springing to mind and Dean wondered how far he could push Sam, how far he would be able to go before Sam gave in, gave up, figured it out, called his bluff?

"Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I thought Dean would have taught you better than this". His voice was low, seductive and playful all at the same time. He hated it. Hated the sound of it falling from between his lips and rattling around his head, sounding far too much not his own. Like someone else was using it, testing it out, seeing what worked and what didn't.

But Sam liked it, Dean could tell from the way his breath hitched, his eyes darkening till they were almost black, his hips arching of the chair just lightly. He would have to remember that for another time, another day were he could stretch the younger man out and spend hours teasing him but not now. No he had a lesson to teach.

"Where's Dean?" Sam was using his authoritive voice, the one that only made an appearance on hunts or if Dean had done something to really piss him off, the one that never failed to get Dean that little bit hot under his many layers of cloths. Absentmindedly Dean wondered with one this came under, maybe both because Sam had to be really pissed right about now.

Yanking Sam's hair Dean forcibly moved Sam's head to the side so his cheek was rubbing against his half hard dick, the gun slipping across the bridge of Sam's nose, only just missing his eye as it slid down the other cheek as Sam tried to jerk away in a pathetic attempt to free himself from Dean's iron tight grasp.

Laughing darkly Dean slid the gun back up, using the barrel to push some of the fallen strands of Sam's hair away from his face, exposing his narrowed and angry eyes as the young man glared up at him with hate and disgust.

Dean knew he should stop, that that look should make him drop the gun and apologise, fill him with an overwhelming sense of shame and disgust but all it did was make him that much harder, make him smile that much more menacingly down at his brother.

It was a whole new level of fucked up for him to be getting off on this. Sure they had role played a few times, the priest outfits being used one too many times for non job related tasks and Sammy had looked real good when they played Doctor but this? This was a whole new kind of low, getting off on being a demon or a shifter or whatever the fuck supernatural being he was pretending to be.

It was wrong. It was so wrong he didn't have enough words to descried how wrong it was but despite all that Dean found himself unwilling to stop, to into it to really think about what Sam would think of him when all this was over. "You didn't seem that bothered about where he was a minute ago so why should I think you really care now?"

Sam jerked against Dean's hold; his fingers digging into Dean's wrists hard enough to bruise. He was alight with anger, burning with it so brightly that Dean though he might go blind. "Screw you". Sam spat the words at him, his full lips curling up in disgust as he sneered at Dean.

He should stop, Dean knew this but the anger in his brother's eyes made it all that much more real, that much more tempting because there had to be a point where Sam would turn round and call him out, demand that he stop and put an end to this new twisted little game and Dean so desperately wanted to get there, to find Sam's breaking point.

Slipping the gun down slightly Dean rubbed the tip gently against the corner of Sam's mouth, transfixed as the smooth metal caught on Sam's plump lips, an idea curling open inside his head, his mind latching on with a sick sort of interest.

"All in good time Sammy. Now why don't you open that pretty mouth of yours and show me what a good little cock sucker you are". Horror flickered behind the anger in Sam's eyes as he glanced down at Dean's now hard dick, swallowing audibly before glaring back up at Dean, clenching his jaw tightly shut. Good old Sam, defiant till the very end no matter who or what he was pissing off along the way.

Dean faltered, so used to Sam just taking whatever Dean wanted him to that his little act of defiance left him stunned, staring down at his brother in shock. The moment passed quickly though, Dean snapping his mouth shut as he tightened his grip in the long silk strands, twisting them as he pulled Sam's head back, grinding his cheek against his hip.

Sam gasped, his eyes slamming shut against the pain, tears welling in his eyes, threatening to fall with every breath he took. For a second Dean thought he had gone too far, had let things get to out of hand and had actually hurt Sam, the idea making him feel sick.

He was just about to untangle his fingers from Sam's hair, let the gun fall to the floor and drop to his knees, begging for his forgiveness when Sam's eyes snapped open, his pupils blown wide and as black as night. If he hadn't known it was impossible Dean would have thought him possessed.

Dean laughed loudly, the bitter sweet sound ringing in his ears. He didn't know if he was laughing at the whole ridiculousness of the situation that they had found themselves in, his complete stupidity to think that a little hair pulling would actually hurt Sam considering he had done a hell of a lot worse over the past few months or at the look of determination in Sam's eyes.

Smiling fondly down at his brother Dean rubbed the gun along Sam's lips, pushing gently against the seam. "Come on Sammy open up, you know you want to. You do it for Dean don't you? Spread them so easily for him and just let him fuck you like a cheap whore. Cos that's all you are Sammy, just an easy lay, a cheap thrill that will spread his legs for anyone as long as he's getting a good fuck out of it".

Dean felt sick as the words fell from his lips, none of them having a ring of truth to them. He hated himself for saying them to Sam. His Sammy who shone brighter than a burning star even after all the shit he had been through. Dean would make it up to him though. When all this was over, when they were finished he would crawl on hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. Kiss every inch of skin he could get to till Sam knew they had all been lies, that he didn't mean it. Till he knew that wasn't how Dean thought of him, ever.

Sam glanced down, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes before he seemed to collect himself, preparing himself for what was coming. Glaring up at Dean Sam locked his eyes with his and ever so slowly opened his mouth.

Smiling in triumph Dean briefly thought about unzipping his pants and shoving his aching length down Sam's throat. It would be good, always was. It would be tight and wet and hot and Sam would try his hardest to suck Dean's brains out, leaving him a gasping mess of bliss as he tried to remember how to breath but that wasn't what he wanted. Not at the moment anyway.

Running the gun gently along Sam's bottom lip Dean winked at his brother before he shoved the barrel deep into his waiting mouth. Sam's eyes widened in panic as he choked on the skin warm metal, desperately trying to jerk his head away from the intrusion but Dean's grasp on his hair was tight, keeping his head pressed firmly against his hip.

Licking his lips Dean gazed hungrily down at Sam's mouth, his eyes zeroing in on his full lips as the smooth metal of the gun slip over them, tugging against the plump flesh as he ever so slightly slid the barrel over Sam's tongue. "Come on Sammy, show me what you've got. Show me what good old Dean gets from his adoring baby brother".

Sam made a chocked cry of what Dean thought sounded a lot like distress around the gun and Dean couldn't help but think this was it. Sam was going to shake his head and tell him to fuck off. Call him out for being the sick freak he clearly was for getting off on this, on being something that they hated, that they killed on a regular basis.

Sam wouldn't be able to look at him for days, wouldn't want Dean touching him for a good few weeks that was for sure and he would deserve it, would suffer Sam's cold shoulder without so much as a whispered protest because this was so wrong and he really shouldn't be enjoying it as much as he was.

Sam swallowed around the intrusive object, his tongue forcing it that little bit further into his mouth. Dean watched, captivated as Sam closed his lips around the barrel of the gun and teasingly slow moved his mouth down the shaft before pulling back as far as Dean's grasp would let him, his cold eyes never once leaving Dean's and_ fuck_ that shouldn't be so hot.

Dean didn't even know he had been holding his breath until the need to breath began to crash in on him. Gasping he pulled in a lung full of much needed air, his oxygen starved lungs burning as they were filled. His heat slammed against his ribcage, threatening to burst free at any moment, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Dean couldn't believe the trust that Sam was placing in him, the utter control he was giving up. If his finger so much as twitched then it was goodbye Sammy hello bleeding corpse with a hole in it face but Sam trusted him not to let that happen. _Sam trusted him_.

That thought alone filled Dean with a happiness like no other. Just knowing that even after everything they had done to each other, put the other through, Sam still trusted him enough to put his life willingly into Dean's hands and let him do whatever he wanted. Trusting that he would come out of it alive, without more than a few shallow cuts and bruises as evidence of what they had done. It made Dean's heart swell with love and his body with happiness. It was one of the best feelings Dean had ever experienced.

Licking his dry lips Dean smiled softly down at Sam, transfixed as he worked his mouth over the smooth metal, mimicking the sinfully sweet things he had done to Dean only a few hours ago. Groaning Dean rocked his hips forward slightly remembering what it felt like to have Sam working him with his hot mouth, making him forget almost everything except how good it felt and Sam's name that seemed to always turn into a constant chant.

Sam pulled back as far as he could, opening his mouth wide around the gun, his skilled tongue darting out to lick round the end before it darted into the hole, a sick parody of what he normally did when he had Dean's dick in his mouth.

Groaning at the obscene image in front of him Dean yanked on Sam's hair forcing his head forward. The gun slid back into Sam's excepting mouth, his cheek rubbing slightly against Dean's straining member as he tried to take more of the gun in. Dean's pleasure filled groan mixed with Sam's wanton moan as he sucked the gun in deeper, working his mouth faster and harder.

Suspicion started to gnaw at Dean's all consuming desire and reluctantly he tore his eyes away from his brothers stretched and abused lips to glance down quickly before his attention was yanked buck up as Sam rubbed his cheek purposely against Dean's trapped erection.

Sam was hard, his dick straining against the black cotton of his suit trousers, his hips jerking forward slightly as he sought out friction that just wasn't there. The image mixed with the desperate needy little sounds that Sam was making were going straight to Dean's cock, the pressure in his gut building with every little whimper that escaped from between Sam's swollen lips.

Fixing his gaze on Sam's wide dark eyes Dean tried to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to blow his load without being touched like some inexperienced teenager who didn't even know what a bra was let alone how to unhook one.

All the anger had gone from Sam's eyes now, replaced by love and lust but most importantly of all trust. Sam's eyelids fluttered closed, his long lashes fanning out over the top of his cheek bones as he moaned Dean's name around a mouthful of metal, sucking the gun just that little bit deeper into the back of his throat.

Realisation hit Dean hard in his gut, twisting next to the pleasure that had slowly but surely been consuming his body and mind. Sam knew, had probably known the moment he walked in that Dean was there and had just chosen to ignore him to get a rise out of him, though Dean doubted that this was what he had been expecting.

Dean didn't know whether to laugh, cry or just get on with it. The little shit had been playing him from the start and Dean had just played straight into his hands. How could he have been so stupid, of course Sam knew, he wouldn't have let anyone get this close to him but Dean. Wouldn't let anyone but Dean use and abuse him in such a way. He had just been so caught up in his anger and then lust to _really_ think about what was happening.

Tightening his grasp in Sam's hair Dean yanked his head back, stilling his almost frantic movements on the gun. Sam gasped at the sudden pain, his lips opening wide. Dean took the opportunity to slip the gun free from the warm wet cavern, a trail of saliva connecting it to Sam's plump abused bottom lip.

Sam's eyes were as big as saucers as he glanced up at Dean, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed red as he gasped for breath. The whole scene looked utterly filthy, like it would be at home in the middle of a porn'o. Admittedly a very genre pacific porn'o but a cheap thrills skin video none the less. Quickly Dean made a mental note of what to ask of Sam for Christmas before he focused all his attention on his brother.

Keeping his hold on Sam's hair Dean lent forward, bending at the waist so he could gently place his spit covered gun on the table, the soft clinking noise it made against the metal top sounding as loud as if he had fired it in the silent room. Pulling back slightly Dean pulled Sam's head up and round so Sam had to lift his ass off the chair or risk Dean pulling chunks of his hair out.

Placing his lips next to Sam's ear Dean looked ahead at the grubby, dirt streaked windows, keeping his balance with a hand pressed over his gun, the hard metal digging painfully into his palm. He kept his voice low and light, almost like he was teasing Sam. "You conniving little bitch".

Sam's eyes widened impossibly more, his lips parting as he gasped, probably about to protest the harsh words or continue their little game but Dean wasn't going to let him distract him with his long words and pleads from more. "You've been playing me from the start haven't you? And to think I was so close to giving in".

Slowly Dean swiped his tongue round the shell of Sam's right ear drawing a deep groan from his brothers lips. Pushing his lips right against Sam's ear Dean smiled, looking forward to the next part more that he probably should considering he was rock hard and ready to go, but he had set out to teach Sam a lesson and that was just what he was going to do.

"Shame on you Sammy". With that he pushed away from the table, loosening his hold on Sam's hair so his fingers could slide free of the long locks. Sam groaned in disappointment as he slumped back into the chair, his body going limp after being pulled taught for so long.

Moving away from Sam Dean picked up his discarded beer bottle, taking a long swig to quench his sudden thirst, though he knew it was something completely different he was thirsting after but he couldn't have that, not yet anyway. In a few days he would drink his fill until he felt sick with it.

Smirking Dean leant against the small kitchen counter, the wooden top digging painfully into his side as he watched Sam try and regain control over his body. His large hands were scrunched up into tight fists on his knees, pulling the skin tight across his knuckles, skin flushed an angry red all the way down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his crisp white shirt. He was glaring down at the gun that Dean had left on the table with such anger that Dean was sure it was going to melt at any moment from the intensity. "Dean".

Dean couldn't help but laugh as Sam threw his head back, all anger and seriousness being chased away by the puppy dog eyes and a pleading pout as he whined Dean's name like a spoilt little brat. Finishing his beer Dean waved the empty bottle towards Sam, a bright smile lighting up his face, his enjoyment of his brothers distress probably a lot more obvious than it should be but oh well, Sam knew he liked to do this to him so he really should have seen it coming.

"Nah ah Sammy, you know the rules". And he did know, knew them better than Dean did. He had memorised them as soon as Dean had set them which was really great, half the time. Sam followed the rules to a T, doing things before Dean could even ask for them but it also meant that the sneaky little git that Sam was knew every single way to get around them, which had lead Dean to set very specific ones like no laying naked face down on a bed with the magic fingers turned on. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Gentle knocking at the door pulled Dean away from his very x-rated trip down memory lane and back to his rather annoyed brother in the here and now. Still smiling widely he placed the empty bottle on the side before slowly making his way back to the door, never once taking his eyes off his pouting brother. "Oh an your cleaning my gun. You got all slobber over it".

Sam shoot him his standard bitch face over his shoulder making Dean laugh at just how annoyingly adorable Sam looked when he was pissed. Still laughing Dean yanks the hotel rooms door open expecting to find a maid wishing to change the towels or the manger questioning them about the card being refused. What he wasn't expecting was to come face to face with a scowling Cas, standing in the doorway with his arms folded tight over his chest, looking every bit as deadly as he was.

Instantly Dean's laughter died in his throat, his smile falling. "Erm hay Cas, what ya doing out there?" Dean stepped aside letting the angel stalk past him in a flurry of tan trench coat and concealed attitude. "I couldn't get in".

Castiel's voice was its usual rough, monotone drivel that still managed to have a slight tang of annoyance to it, though unless you knew the guy as well-ish as they did you would never have noticed it. Cas stalked into the middle of the room only stopping once he was standing next to Sam, spinning around to level Dean with his serious too blue eyes that made him want to flinch when they were fixed on him so intensely.

Dean laughed nervously as he shut the door, his eyes darting up to the Enochian sign he had carved into the door the moment they had got to the hotel in Fort Worth and you know not to mention the other like twenty that he had scattered around the room making it impossible for an angel to get in unless they used the plain old human way. Well unless they just used their angel powers and reduced the hotel to a pile of rubble, which was something he really didn't want to be thinking about at the moment.

He hadn't really thought about it which was kind of the story of his life so it shouldn't surprise anyone that he had just done it without thinking about the consequences first. All he had wanted was some uninterrupted time alone with Sam. Selfish of him yer but it was starting to become a habit of Castiel's to drop in just when they were getting to the good stuff and Sam hadn't stopped him like he normally would. Hadn't ever given him a slight disapproving look over the top of his laptop so he had needed it just as much as Dean had.

"Weren't defeated by a big bad door were ya Cas?" Dean regretted the teasing words as soon as they left his mouth, Castiel's scowl darkened slightly, his narrowing and Dean was sure the sky hadn't been that dark a minuet ago. "I'll get rid of them".

Smiling nervously Dean spun away from Cas's piercing blue eyes and back to the door franticly thinking of a way to get the sign off. He could scratch it off but that run the risk of turning it into something possibly worse before better. He could always set fire to the door, maybe chuck some acid over it, whatever was quickest would be the best.

Dean was man enough to admit that Cas had the ability to scare the crap out of him. He was a powerful angel of the Lord after all and had the ability to smite people which admittedly was kind of kool and could come in incredibly useful but Dean never wanted to be on the receiving end of that, ever. Fuck it he was going to burn them off. They would be long gone before a maid even though about setting foot in the room.

Spinning back around to face the still scowling angel Dean smiled widely, quickly making his way over to his jeans that lay discarded on the bed, rooting around in the pockets until his fingers closed around the cool metal of his lighter. Now all he needed was some kind of accelerant. "So find anything?"

Did distraction work on angels? Dean really hoped so because the only kind of accelerant he had was a can full of gasoline and that was in the trunk of the impala six floors below them. But luckily for Dean Cas took the bait, his scowl turning back into his usual slight frown. "It was most...unuseful".

Sam snorted, an annoyed half smile pulling up the corners of his lips. "I could have told you that". Dean couldn't help but smile even more. It was a rare thing for Sam to be openly pissed at Cas and sure maybe in might be slightly Dean's fault for keeping him on edge for so long that patience now wasn't one of Sam's virtues at the moment but he hadn't done it intentionally, really he hadn't. Plus he was annoyingly adorable when he got all pissie.

Dean could see the clogs turning in Castiel's mind as he tipped his head slight to the side in that confused puppy look he now had down to an art as he tried to process why Sam would let him go to the museum if he had known it was going to be a waste of his time.

As he went to open his mouth, no doubt about to voice that very thought Dean cut across him, hoping to prevent a pointless argument that would just piss them both off more than they already were. "So what now?"

Both of them turned to look at Dean, two sets of eyes boring into him making his skin prickle. With his head still tilted to the side Cas stared at him, his brows creased in concentration and not for the first time Dean felt like Cas was seeing more than just his fleshy outside. Snapping his head back up Cas's hard gaze softened slight, his blue eyes not as intense as they had been before.

"Now I try and follow its trail. It has already left a body in Salt Lake City and if I..." Dean's whole body jerked forward as Castiel said body, every nerve on alert. Sam whipped his head round eyes wide as he stared at Cas in disbelief. "Wait, what? Body, what body?" Dean looked expectantly at the blank faced angel waiting for an answer, uncaring the he had cut him off mid way through his explanation.

They had driven through Salt Lake City on their way to Fort Worth, if they had just missed the damned thing then Dean would...well he wasn't really sure what he would do but it was probably going to hurt, a lot. "A women was found bled dry in an abandoned warehouse. She had a hand print burned into her throat".

Dean's eyes widened slightly. The women had had a hand print burned into her just like Tad had except he had lived to tell the tale. Well sort of, not if you could call being locked away in a crazy house for the rest of his life living but at least he was still alive, that had to count for something, right?

"When?" Sam growled out the question between clenched teeth, glaring daggers at the angel. Dean knew that Sam was thinking the same thing he had been, knew he was mentally retracing there footsteps. "Three days ago".

Dean slammed his eyes shut, blocking out Castiel's dull voice and the look of horror on Sam's face. Three days ago they had passed through Salt Lake City. Three days ago they had passed by a killer who they were trying to hunt and now an innocent women was dead. Three days ago they had missed their chance.

Dean wasn't stupid, he knew they couldn't save everyone but the injustice of it was enough to make his blood run cold and hate bubble inside of him. "Dean". Opening his eyes Dean's gaze locked with Sam's, wide emotion filled eyes staring back at him begging him to make it right, make some sort of sense of the crazy Cas had dumped on them. But he couldn't.

They were researching every available second they got but the closest they had come to finding anything remotely fitting the description Tad had given them was a demon and/or an angel and Cas had been adamant that it was impossible for an angel demon hybrid to exist, something about one side constantly trying to kill the other before the host body just upped and died, the body being burned up long before either side became the dominate one.

Bobby was going through all his books in hope that something might turn up. He was even asking other hunters to let him know if they came across anything similar but everything had turned up a blank and they were quickly running out of options. "So what, you just going to wait for this thing to leave another body behind?"

Sam was staring at Cas again, that same annoyed disbelieving look in his eyes, that one look demanding that Castiel answer him. Dean had to admit it was a fair question, one that they shouldn't have to be asking but you could never be too sure about the lengths an angel was willing to go to.

They had done a _lot_ of stupid things in their lives but purposely waiting for a monster to kill a bunch of innocent people so they could follow the trail of bloodless corpses it left behind? That was a whole new level of stupidly low even for them.

Shifting nervously Dean lowed his gaze to the floor. He didn't want to know the answer. Didn't want to hear Cas say that he was really considering letting innocent people die just so he had a way of tracking something that seemed almost untraceable. "Right, you best be on your way then. We would love to stay and chat but we are in the middle of a case that needs out urgent attention."

As he was talking, his voice holding all that false bravado that he was_ so_ well known for Dean stalked back towards the unbelievably naive angel, grabbing him tightly by the elbow and dragging him back towards the door.

Confusion flickered briefly across Castiel's stern features as Dean yanked the door open and shoved him out into the hallway with a little more force than was strictly necessary but it wasn't like it had much of an effect on the angel other then prompting him to take the few steps that had him going from being in the room to outside it.

Moving quickly Dean pulled the door closed slightly, filling the small gap with his body, blocking Castiel's view of the room behind him. Dean knew that if Cas really wanted him to move so he could get back in there shitty little room he wouldn't stand a chance of stopping the angel.

He suffered no delusions that Cas was one hundred times stronger than he ever would be and could probably brake his face with a well placed poke if he should ever want to, not that Cas ever would want to, hopefully.

Staring up at Dean Cas tilted his head slightly, his bright knowing eyes boring into him, searching for something that Dean wasn't sure he wanted the angel to find. Stepping away from the door Cas nodded curtly before spinning away from Dean and stalking down the dingy corridor, his trench coat billowing out behind him. As he reached the end of the corridor soft rustling filled the air, a sound Dean now only associated with angels coming and going. And just like that Cas was gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Sighing Dean gently pushed the door closed, the soft click of the lock catching sounding to loud in the now silent room. Unease set heavy in Dean's heart as his mind reeled from the new information it had taken Cas all but two minutes to divulge.

They had known that bodies would start turning up eventually, knew that whatever it was wouldn't stay silent for long but one day? They knew demons who had waited longer than that just for the fun of it.

"Dean?" Sam's questioning voice cut through Dean's thoughts, that one word holding so much weight behind it that it was enough to make Dean want to scream. "I know Sam". Dean slumped back against the door, all his energy draining from his weary body. He didn't know how much more of this he would be able to take.

He used to love this job, years ago when he was young to cocky to know any better. But know it just seemed that every corner they turned, every path they stumbled down there was one big bad after another just waiting for them. Waiting for their chance to sink there claws in and rip them apart, blood and guts flying through the air and painting the walls of whatever dive they found themselves in that week. But hadn't they already given enough?

They had been tortured, hunted, used, possessed, played against one another, had lost nearly every one they had ever given a shit about and stood on the drink of apocalypse countless times and that was only in the last few years. They had died more times than was natural, being shot, stabbed and even ripped apart by hellhounds and that wasn't even going into the endless Tuesdays that Sam had been forced to endure at the hands of a twisted angel who liked to play dress up, his preferred costume being that of the most annoying little prick the world had to offer.

Dean had held Sam's dying body in his arms as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding, all the while Sam had been choking on his own blood. Sam had died in his arm that night, just fading out of existence whilst Dean had screamed out his name, telling him that it would all be okay, that Dean would look after him because it was his job, his real job. He had been left holding the empty corpse of the one thing that meant more to him than anything else in the world including his own life. Wasn't that enough?

They had endured everything that fate had thrown at them and yet the world still wanted more but there wasn't much more they could give. Nothing left for the universe to take from them except their lives and each other and when it came down to that neither one of them would give up without one hell of a fight.

Dean gasped in shock as Sam wrapped his long arms around his waist, pulling Dean's smaller body tight against his chest, his head dropping forward to rest on Dean's shoulder. So caught up in his own thoughts Dean hadn't even registered his brother moving, something that seemed to becoming a regular occurrence.

Sighing Dean tipped his head forward so his cheek was resting against Sam's chest, his arms slipping around Sam's waist, his hands sliding up Sam's back to rest between his shoulder blades. They stood there in silence, neither one of them feeling the need to speak pointless words to fill the silence, the gentle rise and fall of Sam's chest lulling Dean into a hazy calmness.

It didn't matter how many times Dean told Sam that he would always look out for him, take care of him the unspoken answer was always there. Sam would always return the favour, giving him whatever he needed to carry on surviving day buy day. He would do it in silence and with a gentle smile because he knew Dean, knew he didn't need fancy words. All he needed was Sam's reassuring touch, his calming presence, his hungry glances and loving kisses. He just need Sam.

Sam's hot breath fanned across Dean's neck as he turned his head, nuzzling against the exposed flesh. "What now?" Sam's mumbled words vibrated against Dean's breath warmed skin, sending tiny shivers down his spine. What now? The big question that they always seemed to be asking themselves.

Dean didn't have a clue what came next. They had just let an angel walk away who had every intention to let innocent people die just so he could get a few steps closer to finding the thing that had done the seemingly impossible and they had done nothing to stop him. Dean had even gone as far as to chuck him out before they could even try because he knew it would have just been a waist of breath.

Nothing they could have said to Cas would have changed his mind, would have convinced him to stop and really think over what he was suggesting because he wasn't human and it didn't matter how much time he spent on earth slumming it with them learning there ways, learning what it meant to be human he just wasn't. He couldn't see things the way they did, couldn't feel things like love and shame and sorrow like a human could.

Taking a deep breath Dean tightened his hold on his brother, his blunt nails digging into his black blazer. "We gear up. We have five girls to find and a nest of Twilight wannabes to put down before the sun comes up". He felt Sam sigh against his neck, his grip tightening on Dean's waist just the little bit more. "Best get changed then".

Sam pressed a quick kiss to Dean's neck before he pulled away, slipping easily from Dean's grasp. Dean's arms automatically fell to his side, his hands feeling heavy as if they were made of lead. Unmoving Dean watched as Sam moved around the room, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and chucking it over the back of the chair he had been sitting in as he made his was over to his bed, pulling his black tie lose as he went.

Pulling his duffle across the dirt brown sheets Sam started to rummage through its depths, no doubt looking for something that was both appropriate for a club yet still ideal for a job. He looked so calm and relaxed, unaffected by anything that was going on around them and Dean couldn't help but hate him a little for that.

Okay so maybe hate was too strong a word, he could never truly hate Sam no matter what. He disliked greatly Sam's ability to just switch it all off and get on with the job at hand, resented the fact that he could detach himself from there fucked up lives so easily.

Dean would admit that he didn't cope that well, only to himself mind you, he couldn't let Sam know he was that pathetic, that weak. He drank like a fish these days, drowning his sorrows in cheap beer and whisky strong enough to put a normal guy to sleep, but over the years he had built up a intolerance and now he needed to drink twice as much to just get that numbing buzz that only being drunk could give him.

He hated that Sam just seemed to so easily distinguish between the job and life, not letting the guilt from the first weigh down the second but it hadn't always been like that. Before his time in Hell, before all this Lucifer's true vessel crap Sam had been the most guilt ridden person Dean had ever known. Even the slightest little thing weighed him down like a tonne of bricks, taking the blame for things that were out of their control.

But since the cage something had changed. Something inside of Sam had shifted and he no longer got that look of utter failure when they came across someone they couldn't save, when a demon made sure the person it had crawled into wouldn't be getting up again once they were yanked out, when they made a mistake and salt and burned to wrong bones and someone else got killed because of them.

Sure he still felt the sadness of losing an innocent person but the guilt that they had failed them just wasn't there and Dean couldn't understand why. He had made the decision long ago to ask his brother about it, to demand to know how he could be so unaffected by what they did but when it came down to it he could never get the words out, could never bring himself to shatter that small piece of happiness - if you could call it that - that Sam had managed to find in there fucked up little world.

Sighing Dean pushed himself away from the door, making his way over to the other bed because they still asked for two queens out of habit though nine times out of ten they slept in the same bed and his bag that he had chucked on it that morning when they had first stumbled into the room.

He would ask San about it later, really he would, at some point, in the near-ish future but right now they had a job to do. Things to hunt, people to save and all that jazz. You know the thing they did best when they weren't setting off apocalypses and generally fucking things up.

Pulling out his best jeans, the only ones he owned that weren't blood stained and threatening to fall apart at any moment, Dean glanced at his brother, watching as he pulled off his cloths, his white shirt falling to the floor discarded.

Sam was perfect. Annoyingly perfect with his almost flawless tanned skin stretched over tight muscles that were a result of years worth of excessive exercise and his ridicules apple pie smile that made every women swoon the moment they saw it. Dean's eyes darted down to Sam's hands, lingering on the ring of deep purple bruises that wrapped around his wrist, standing out in beautiful ugly contrast to his golden skin.

They were Dean's claim to him, physical proof that Sam belong to him. It was just a shame they would be gone after a week or so but then he would get the pleasure of putting them back but maybe next time around his neck then he really wouldn't be able to hide them and every one would know he belonged to Dean.

As Dean watched him Sam pulled a black button up shirt out of his bag, the one that clung to him in all the right places and in the right light seemed to shine like wet leather. It was guaranteed to get all the little Goths hot and gasping for it and if he kept the collar open like Dean knew he would all the vamps would come running for a chance to sink their fangs into his long neck and suck him dry.

The perfect bait and so what if it was a little bit of payback for when Sam had let him get turned. Sam hadn't had a soul though back then so he couldn't really hold it against him but that didn't mean he still couldn't make him suffer if only a little, plus seeing Sammy squirm as some vampire wannabe tried to get him to go all submissive under their charm and _'awesome'_ seduction skills never failed to make Dean's day that little bit sweeter.

Leaving his cloths abandoned on the bed Sam turned and headed into the bathroom leaving the door wide open. It was an invitation Dean knew that, after all their time together Dean could read Sam's not so subtle hints like he had screamed them at him and sure enough just seconds later the shower groaned to life, the old pipes clanging their protest as hot water was forced through them and out of the cheap plastic shower head.

Dean flung himself back onto the bed only just missing his bag, listening to the sounds coming from the small bathroom. It would be so easy to strip off and slip in behind Sam, let him and the hot water wash away his troubles if only for a few blissful minuets.

Rubbing a rough hand over his tired eyes Dean scowled up at the ceiling and the ugly ass Enochian symbol glaring back at him. When had things ever been easy for them? Never that's when, so why should he break the habit of a lifetime and start now? It didn't look like the future was going to buck the trend and give them a break so he might as well just suck it up and get on with it, except his fate and all the bullshit that came hand in hand with doing that.

A low grown floated through the air only just audible over the patter of water hitting the bottom of the plastic tub. Dean's cock gave a twitch of interest, the familiar sound sending a shiver of desire down his spine, heat pooling in his belly. Licking his suddenly dry lips Dean turned to look at Sam's bed taking in his he scattered cloths and the few books he had strewn across the sheets from that morning.

Staring at the black shirt that Sam was about to spend the night in Dean tried not to think of what his brother was doing, tried not to picture how he looked with one hand braced against the cracked tiled wall, his head tipped forward under the warm spray, the water dripping of his long hair and sliding over his naked skin, his eyes shut tightly, full lips parted slight as he breathed deeply, the muscles in his arm flexing as he leisurely moved his hand over his hard length.

Another deep moan pulled Dean from his traitorous thoughts, reminding him that the real thing was just a few feet away, willing to do whatever Dean asked of him, eager for it even. Pushing himself up onto his elbows Dean glared down at his tented trousers, trying to will his erection away. They had rules god damn it and someone had to try and follow them cos it was clear that Sam had no desire to.

Dean's head shot up as Sam gasped out his name all wanton and begging, that one word braking his resolve like a hammer to a sheet of glass. Scrambling off the bed Dean hurriedly made his way towards the bathroom pulling his shirt off over his head as he went, buttons be damned.

He had never been one for excepting fate, had never been the one to lay back and take it like a bitch so why start now? No point in kicking the habit this far down the line and any way it would save on water which would help the environment and shit so he could count it as his good deed for the day...right?


	9. Bite To Brake The Skin

A/N: So finaly a new chapter sorry it took me so long life has been kind of busy the last few weeks and this is a long one. As always nothing belongs to me apart from Hope and i hope you review. All the best and all that jazz. Thanks for reading.

**Bite To Brake The Skin And Let The Blood Flow**

Slumping back against the small table he had been standing next to for the last twenty minutes Sam glared at the women across the bar from him, willing her to get the message and just fuck right the hell off but it seemed the more he glared at her the more interested she got, her hooded eyes darkening with every passing second.

She was dressed how Sam imagined a high class Victorian prostitute would in a deep red corset covered in black lace forcing her breasts up, making them look like the slightest movement would cause them to tumble free of their confines. Her long black silk skirt was slit up one leg exposing her pale flesh and the black heeled boots she was wearing.

Winking she blew him a kiss, her tongue running what she probably thought was seductively across her fake fangs but only left Sam skin tingling in disgust. Flinching Sam pushed himself back against the rickety table, the edge digging painfully into his lower back.

He felt sick, this whole place making his skin crawl and his head hurt. His fingers itched to wrap around the handle of the knife he could feel pressing against his thigh, tucked safely inside the waistband of his jeans and brandish it at anyone who dared to invade his personal space.

Sighing Sam pulled his gaze away from the smirking women and dragged his eyes around the club for what seemed like the hundredth time, taking in his surroundings. The lights were dim casting the edges of the room in shadows, the dark furniture and deep velvet drapes that lined the walls making the shadows seem that much deeper, the room that little much darker.

The only part of the room that was cast in something that even resembled half decent light was the wrap around bar in the middle of the room. Though Sam suspected that was only so the staff could see what undead themed cocktails they were making because god forbid they use tomato juice instead of cranberry.

The music wasn't any better, stuck somewhere between Goth and some sort of techno, the singer sounding like he was in pain as he sung – if you could call it that – about sex and blood and the eternal children of the night. The constant thumping beat was pushing painfully against Sam's skull and making him want to pull his own hair out.

He couldn't understand how people listened to stuff like this, how they could even call it music. If it ever came down to a choice between this and rock he would chose the latter, rather wanting to spend the rest of his life only ever listening to Dean's outdated 'classic' rock cassette collection if it meant he would never have to here this noise ever again. It would quite literally be music to his ears compared to this, not that he would ever tell Dean that, then he would never get out of having that crap on all the time.

Sam jerked out of his thoughts as sharp nails scratched against the exposed flesh of his neck. Snapping his head round he only just resisted the temptation to reach out and grab the wondering hand and snap every finger that had come into contact with him.

The guy who had had the balls to touch him smirked teasingly at him over his shoulder, black hair falling in front of his twinkling blue eyes as he brought his long fingers up to his lips and sucked the tips into his waiting mouth, moaning around the digits.

Quickly Sam did a mental check, trying to take stock of his possible injuries. He didn't think he was bleeding but then again he hadn't noticed that the Wendigo last month in Boston had taken a swipe at his leg until Dean had pointed in out, going all high pitched and squeaky when he noticed the blood that had soaked through his jeans and was dripping down his leg.

Raising his hand Sam traced over the tingling skin with the soft pads of his fingers. He could feel the slightly raised skin, three thin lines running down the side of his neck and over his collar bone. The sensitive flesh itched under his touch sending small shivers down his spine.

Slowly pulling back his hand a wave of relief flooded over him, easing some of the tension he could feel knotting his muscles and making his body ache. There was no blood; the guy hadn't even broken the skin. Scoffing Sam let his hand fall back to his side; he had received more damage from stray branches over the years. That didn't mean he still didn't want to break the guys hand, watch him scream and beg for Sam to stop and that was only if Dean didn't get there first because he would do a lot more than break his hand.

Folding his arms tight over his chest he turned his head away from the man that had disappeared back into the crowed to resume glaring at the trampy women across from him, trying to think up the best way to get her to move on to someone more willing that didn't involve throwing his knife at her or screaming. "You know if you stare hard enough she might actually burst into flames".

Sam snapped his head to the side at the familiar voice, his ridged posture relaxing as soon as his eyes landed on his brother. Holding out his hand Dean waved a bottle of what Sam really hoped was beer at him but the glass was black and the label written in some foreign langue that he couldn't quite understand but he suspected it was probably Romanian considering the kind of club they were in.

Snatching the bottle out of Dean's hand Sam wrapped his long fingers around the bottle neck and brought it up to his lips. Fuck it, as long as it was alcoholic he didn't really give a shit, just as long as it didn't actually have blood in it he would be fine. Taking a deep drag of the slightly chilled liquid Sam groaned in satisfaction around the rim.

They didn't normally drink on jobs; it was a general unspoken rule between the two of them. Alcohol clouded your judgment, made you slow and stupid and they just couldn't afford to be like that in there line of work, but there was the odd occasion when a job required it. When they were at places like this and they needed to blend in they would stick out like a saw thumb because if you where at a club and you weren't drinking you might as well have a bright neon sign above your head.

But they had years of practice now and one beer could last them all night, even if Sam wanted to down the one he was holding and go order at least another three just so he could feign ignorance the next day when Dean questioned him about why he had thrown his bottle at that women's head because she was still fucking staring at him like he was naked and smothered in blood, a sign hanging round his neck that said bite me on it.

In a last ditch attempt to try and get people to leave him alone Sam slid up next to Dean, pushing his side tight against his brothers silently asking for protection. Sam glared down at his brother as he started to laugh, his whole body shaking as he tried to keep himself from laughing to loudly. He didn't find any of this funny, least of all the unwanted attention he was getting but Dean had always found anything that made Sam uncomfortable to be amusing.

Shaking his head Dean finally managed to gain control of himself, slipping his arm around Sam's waist and pulling him tight against his side. Instantly Sam relaxed, his anger fading as Dean slipped his fingers under the hem of his shirt to gently rub over his hip bone.

Dipping his head forward Sam rested his forehead against the top of Dean's head, his short hair tickling his nose. Turning his body till his front was pressed tight against Dean's side Sam curled his body around his brothers, loving the way they slotted together so perfectly.

It was hard to explain the feeling he got when he was wrapped around Dean like this, his brothers strong arms holding him tight against him. It made him feel like that little boy all those years ago when Dean had just been his kool big brother who would slip into the back seat of the Impala or into Sam's bed whenever he had a nightmare and pull him close, holding Sam's small frame against his body all the while whispering that everything was okay, it wasn't real, that he was safe because Dean wouldn't let anything happen to him.

And Sam supposed that was how he felt in moments like this, whether they were in a crowded bar or Sam was curled around Dean in bed. He felt safe and loved, like nothing could hurt him, like he was invincible as long as he had Dean by his side. Just like he had when he was still too young to understand what it was his family really did, when monsters had just been things in books and films.

He felt Dean's hot breath fan across his exposed skin as he turned his head to press his warm lips against the three scratches on his neck, his hot tongue slipping over the raised flesh. A small gasp escaped from between Sam's parted lips, the hand that he was clutching his beer with coming up to grasp tightly at the front of Dean's black tee.

Dean's hot breath puffed out against Sam neck as he laughed gently, sending shivers of anticipation down Sam's spine. An embarrassingly loud groan feel from between his lips as Dean dragged his teeth against the already tingling skin and Sam found himself wanting Dean to bite down, to mark him, claiming him as his own.

Sam's whole body jerked forward, grinding his half hard dick into his brother's thigh as Dean bit down hard, sucking the abused flesh into his hot mouth. Sam had never really been into the whole vampire gimmick thing but right now he would have no problem with Dean breaking the skin and drinking his fill of Sam's blood. He gave everything else up to Dean so why not this, why not his life?

All too soon though Dean was pulling away, Sam flesh slipping free of his mouth with a wet pop. Shifting slight Dean moved so Sam wasn't pressed so tight against his side. Breathing quickly Sam lifted his head from Dean's, his hand still clutching at the front of his t-shirt.

Sam neck stung pleasantly where Dean had bit down and Sam knew that there were teeth marks on his skin, knew that the flesh around them was red and purple from were Dean had been sucking his blood closer to the surface. Another mark to add to his ever growing collection.

Smirking Dean raised his own bottle to his lips taking a long swig. His green eyes were sparkling with amusement as he stared almost triumphantly at something in front of him. Frowning Sam slowly turned to see what had Dean's attention all of a sudden, his eyes lingering on his brother before they too snapped forward. What he saw made him smile brightly, his body humming with satisfaction.

The women who had been staring at Sam since Dean had abandoned him to go get there drinks looked as if someone had slapped her round the face. Her mouth was hanging open slightly exposing her cheap fangs, her brown eyes wide and full of disbelief. Smiling widely Sam had to fight the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

Slowly he uncurled his fingers from Dean's shirt and brought his own bottle up to his lips, smiling around the rim as he gulped down a mouthful of the now warm liquid. Maybe Dean's little display of ownership would finally get people to leave him alone, now that he had been so openly claimed.

Leaning back against the table Sam once again started to survey the bar, trying his best to look as casual as he could whilst he scouted out possible targets. Despite most of the club goers looking like they had just stepped out of Underworld or Queen of the Damned Sam was surprised to find they were not the only normally dressed people in the room but they definitely seemed to be the most sound of mind and considering how freaky their lives were that was really saying something.

People were huddled in every dark corner, filling the dance floor and surrounding the bar. Every one of them wrapped around someone or another whilst they played there parts, whether that be hunter or pray.

Sighing Sam turned his head to look down at his brother only to find him already gazing up at him. "So how we going to do this? Anyone of these could be a vampire and we really don't have time to go around trying to figure out who is and who is plain old delusional". Dean smirked, razing an eyebrow as if to say 'really Sam', and yer Sam could admit that maybe he had spoken with a little too much of a bite to his words, his dislike for this place and everything it represented showing a little too close to the surface but he just wanted to get this over and done with so they could get the hell out of here already.

But spotting a vampire was kind of hard on most days, made even harder by the fact that all the clueless dicks in this place were trying so hard to act like one. Oh, oh yes that was it. All these people trying so hard to blend in, to become the living embodiment of Edward fucking Cullen or Lestat they just needed to find the ones that blended in naturally, that were playing the part to easily.

As if reading his mind Dean nodded at someone to the left of them, smirking slightly with a knowing glint in his eyes. "We find Lestat". Frowning Sam turned to look at the man as he walked by them, wondering how long ago Dean had singled he out as their target.

The man's blue eyes were glued to the bar, his black hair falling to frame his face. Recognition flickered through Sam's mind and it was only as the man turned his head slightly to gaze back over his shoulder that Sam recognised him as the man who had got a little to handsie with him earlier.

Sam jerked forward standing straighter, his whole body on alert as he watched the man effortlessly weaved in and out of the tightly packed crowed, never once bumping into anyone. Now that Sam was really looking at him instead of imagining all the horrible things he could do to him he could see how obvious it was that he was a vampire.

Most of the people pretending to be vampires were going for the overly confident, sexy to the point of arrogance look but this guy, he looked bored, disinterested in the world around him, his grey suite standing out amongst the black and red that seemed to be the general colour scheme. His cold blue eyes were trained on the bar, completely focused on the poor young girl who was about to become his next meal.

Sam wasn't stupid; he knew what a hunter looked like, how they acted. It was so similar to him when he had been soulless that it almost physically hurt to look at the guy. Every cell in the vampires body was focused on the poor, unsuspecting person who was about to become dinner for a nest of fangs that would take their sweet time, passing them around until they had sucked them dry. It was a horrible way to go, a fate that Sam – with a soul- wouldn't wish on anyone, not even his worst enemy.

Turning his head slightly so he could keep watching the guy as he made his way to the bar Sam took another swig of his beer trying to look like he was just checking him out instead of tracking him, something Sam had gotten kind of good at over the years. Plus he could use his new found talents to make Dean insanely jealous, what came after wasn't that bad either.

Sam cursed under his breath as the vamp disappeared behind a group of scantily clad women, hidden from view as they slowly gyrated against one another. Sam strained slightly, using his height to get a better view of the crowd. He felt Dean shift next to him, probably doing the exact same thing as Sam was. Frowning Sam tried to work out where the guy would appear next, working through all the different possibilities.

Quickly he darted his eyes across the bar, sweeping his gaze from one person to another, trying to find their target. He should have just followed him. So what if it gave away the game at least they would still have him in their sights instead of franticly trying to find him.

Shock shot through Sam's body, recognition flashing through his mind as he quickly darted his eyes back down the bar, the vampire temporarily forgotten. "Dean". His brother's name fell from Sam's lips, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Sam's eyes froze on the one person he never thought he would see again, well not this soon anyway. "Son of a bitch". Sam only just registered Dean's grumbled declaration of annoyance but found himself unable to look away from the seemingly unaware women at the bar.

Blindly San reached behind him, groping at Dean's shirt. "Dean". This time his voice came out louder, more solid, sounding urgent with a slight edge of desperation to it. "What Sam?" Dean sounded pissed and rightly so. They had lost their prey and the small window to head after him was closing quickly but still Sam couldn't tare his eyes away from the bar and he was about to make things ten times worse by pointing her out.

Without turning to look at his brother Sam raised his free hand up and pointed towards the young women who was currently leaning across the bar to talk to the bar tender. She was smiling brightly, green eyes sparking. She looked far to carefree and all Sam wanted was to march over there and demand that she explain herself.

He knew the exact moment Dean saw her, felt him stiffen under his grasp as he sucked in a deep breath. Sam couldn't believe their luck. The thing they were after just turning up in the same bar as them was way past crazy coincidence on the freaky meter.

With stunned intensity Sam watched as Hope flung her long hair over her shoulder and leaned back, her leather jacket falling open to expose her naked skin. For a second Sam thought her bare under the dark jacket until the hazy light caught on the black bra she had on, the shiny material moulded to look like hands cupping her breasts.

It looked sleazy and enticing all at once, probably designed to get people's attention and draw them in to her dark web of lies, all so they would leave willingly with her so she could do god knows what to them.

Anger flowed through Sam's veins, pulsing under his skin, making his body tense and ready to spring into action the moment she did something even slightly suspicious. He didn't trust her, couldn't trust her. There was just something under the surface that screamed at him that she wasn't right, she wasn't human and he would stop at nothing to protect Dean from the strange sort of hold she had over him.

Hope smiled brightly at the bartender as he placed a tall slim glass in front of her, the deep red liquid looking far too much like blood for Sam's liking. Turning to face the dance floor she leaned sideways against the bar top, her elbow resting on the edge.

Sam watched vividly as she swept her eyes across the room, surveying the people around her as if they were cattle to be bartered for. Every time someone caught her eyes she would smile seductively at them, daring them to approach her and try their luck.

The whole display sickened Sam. He wanted nothing more than to march over there and drag her kicking and screaming from the bar. He would shove her down the nearest empty ally and demand that she tell them what she was and what she was after.

Sam was just about to push himself away from the table, his hand already half way to his knife when Dean's hand curled tightly around his elbow, holding him in place. Slowly Sam turned his head slightly so he could gaze questioningly down at his brother whilst still keeping one eye on Hope, just in case she should chose to bolt.

Dean wasn't even looking at him, his eyes trained on the young women he was so foolishly convinced was innocent in this whole matter. Wordlessly Dean nodded his head towards the bar causing Sam to glare down at him. With a put upon sigh Sam turned back to Hope just in time to see their missing pretty boy vamp slide up next to her, leaning casually against the bar as he motioned for service.

Sam's first instinct was that they were working together. That this whole thing was a planed operation with Hope pulling the strings or being some sort of monster for hire, helping them cover their tracks but as he watched the two interact it was clear to see that they had never met before.

Hope was all smiles and coy looks as they spoke, slowly getting closer with every sentence they exchanged, whilst he was all charm and barely concealed hunger. They both seemed to tune out the world around them, focused so intensely on one another.

Sam could barely help but laugh as he realised what was happening. They were putting their killer moves on each other. He was trying to get her back to his nest so him and his family could pass her around and drain her dry whilst she was trying to whisk him back to her stolen car so she could most probably knock him out and drive off to an abandoned warehouse where she could do whatever she pleased to him.

It was kind of ironic really that two killers would signal each other out and their respective victims. A sort of poetic justice really. Bringing his warm beer up to his lips Sam took a long drag, finishing what was left as he watched the two interact.

Hope was laughing, her head thrown back, smile wide and her green eyes crinkled around the edges. In that moment Sam was reminded of Dean, of how he looked when he really laughed and not that forced crap he used on a job or when chatting up girls. Quickly Sam shook the vile thought off. She was nothing like Dean. She was a monster and Dean just...wasn't.

Tipping her head coyly to the side Hope ran her hand through her long hair, pushing a few fallen strands out of her eyes. The movement cased her hair to fall off her shoulders, exposing the long inviting column of her neck. Instantly the guys eyes fell to her neck, his tongue slipping out to lick at his lips.

Almost subconsciously the vamp moved forward invading her personal space. Instead of freaking out like most people would Hope just smiled up at him, trailing her fingers seductively down her neck and across the swell of her breasts, her finger tips just brushing against the oval locket that hung around her slender neck.

She was teasing him, assuming that he was some wannabe vamp trying to act the part. It was amazing how completely and utterly wrong she was. Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling even if he wanted to as he thought about how totally screwed she was. If she wasn't the killer he thought she was, well not the supernatural killer any way then she was about to learn what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a killers intrests.

"Sam". Dean sounded panicked, his grip tightening on Sam's arm as Hope turned away from them to glare at the burly bald man that had just bumped into her. As soon as her gaze was averted the vampire darted forward, a pale hand shooting up to hover over Hope's glass.

Dean was moving before Hope had fully turned away, dragging Sam behind him as Sam watched with something close to horror as the guy tipped a fine powder into her glass and slipped back into place as if he had never moved at all, the white substance dissolving almost instantly.

As if in slow motion Hope turned back to face the young man, blindly reaching out for her drink and bringing it up to her smiling lips. Sam wanted to scream at her for being so careless as she drank deeply from the glass, swallowing almost half of it in one go.

Stunned at what he was seeing Sam allowed Dean to pull him onto the dance floor, slipping in-between the gyrating masses. Using his height to his advantage Sam continued to watch the two as Hope leaned towards the other man smiling seductively with hooded eyes.

Panic wrapped its fingers tight around Sam's heart as the two pushed away from the bar, the vampire offering Hope his arm as she wobbled slightly, a tanned hand coming up to press at her temples, her face screwing up in confusion.

The man smiled reassuringly down at her, his blue eyes gleaming as he tugged her away from the bar and onto the crowded dance floor. Sam knew they were heading to the door. No self respecting vampire would be stupid enough to try something in a place as crowded as this, well he hoped not anyway. They really didn't need more attention than they were already getting.

Swearing under his breath Sam started to take larger strides quickly overtaking Dean so he was the being tugged along behind Sam instead of the other way around. They couldn't lose them, it just wasn't an option. They needed the vamp to find the nest, to try and save as many of the young girls as they could and then there was_ her_.

They needed Hope. She was important, had something to do with the rip in time and the murder in Salt Lake City. Sam knew this, was so certain of it he would bet his soul on it. Well maybe not his soul, something probably closer to $50 but that wasn't the point. She had something to do with it and Sam was going to find out what before she became a buffet for a nest of the hungriest things she had ever come across.

Quickening their steps the brothers followed the two killers out onto the street. Stopping out into the middle of the street Sam jerked his head from side to side looking to see where Hope and undead kidnaper had gone. The couple were a good few feet or so ahead of them as they stumbled down the street, the man practically dragging Hope behind him as the drugs started to work through her system.

Shaking Dean's hand off Sam shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, feeling the long blade through the thin cotton. Turning sharply he started after them, keeping a respectable distance so as not to draw any unwanted attention to them.

He could feel Dean beside him, stretching his smaller legs as he tried to keep up with Sam as he quickened his pace as the two disappeared around a corner, slipping into an unseen alleyway. Flat out running to make sure that they didn't lose them Sam slid around the corner coming to an abrupt stop as he stumbled into the empty dead end alley.

He had been so sure that this was the one they had turned into. There had not been one before and Sam couldn't recall seeing one after so this had to be the one, right? Vampires couldn't just vanish into thin air so they had to of gone somewhere, had too of made their escape somehow.

Standing there in stunned silence Sam barely registered his brother coming up behind him, panting slightly from trying to keep up with his long legged brother. "Where'd...they...go?" Dean forced the words out as he doubled over, hands flat against his thighs as he gasped for breath.

Ignoring his brothers question Sam shoved his hand down the side of his black suit trousers. Wrapping his fingers around the handle of his machete Sam pulled the blade out of its holster that he had attached to his leg before they even left the hotel. It slipped easily from his waistband, the blunt edge dragging against his skin as he pulled it free.

Holding it tightly in his hand Sam darted his eyes around the dimly lit alleyway looking for any sign that could show him where the other two had disappeared. They had to be somewhere and knowing their luck like he did Sam suspected they were probably hiding in the shadows somewhere waiting to ambush them when given the opportunity.

Slowly the two of them made their way further into the alley both of them on edge, there blades raised ready to strike if something should jump out at them. Sam felt Dean gently brush the tips of his fingers against the back of his free hand and instantly Sam turned to look at what Dean was wordlessly pointing out to him.

The dirty chipped black door blended in well with the shadowed wall, only noticeable this close up and if you were actually looking for it. If you were just passing the top of the alley you wouldn't see it, just like they hadn't.

Nodding his head in agreement to the unspoken question Sam watched as Dean moved towards the door, machete raised before Sam spun around to face the opposite wall again. Slowly Sam began to walk backwards, following the sound of Dean's light footsteps as he watched for any sign of movement.

At the gentle brush of Dean's fingers against the small of his back Sam moved to the side pushing himself hard against the wall on the opposite side of the door to Dean. Scrunching his nose up in disgust at the faint smell of stale pee Sam tried not to think about all the different things that covered the wall, tried not to imagine all the disgusting things that people had done against it.

It wasn't the first time he had found himself in a place like this, it kind of came with the job but that didn't mean he had to like it. He could admit he was a bit of a neat freak. He liked things tidy, clean, in their place and the prospect of getting covered in other peoples filth left him feeling sick and his skin crawling even if it was under a few layers of clothes.

Once they got back to the hotel he would take a long hot shower and wash it all from his skin along with the vast amount of blood he was undoubtedly going to get covered in. Cutting the head off a vampire was quick and effective but their blood got everywhere as it spurted out of the severed veins. Last time it had taken him a good half-an-hour to get it all out of his hair.

Razing his machete high Sam nodded his head towards Dean, signalling his readiness. With a slight incline of his head Dean stretched out his free hand to grasp the door handle, his fingers wrapping slowly around the thin strip of metal. Once he had a good enough grip Dean quickly yanked the door open as he pushed himself back against the wall, using the door as a shield.

Silently they stood on either side of the doorway, as still as statues as they waited to see if anyone should rush out at the sudden action but after five long minuets and no sign of life coming from inside Sam was quickly losing his calm.

Frowning Sam poked his head around the doorframe. The small room was empty, the only sign that people had been there were the dozens of empty beer bottles that littered the floor and a whole host of crude words scrawled on the walls in brightly coloured paints that stood out almost violently against the dirty walls.

It looked like the standard teenage hangout to any who should glance upon it bust as Sam slowly made his way into the small room it became clear it was just for show, designed to throw people off the vampires trail. The bottles were place to regular intervals, someone having tried too hard to make it look random. Now that he was in the room Sam could see the dozens of burnt out cigarette buts littering the spaces in-between the bottles all bent in exactly the same way as the next.

Scanning his eyes across the walls he took in the painted words, some of them mild and childish but others so crude that even Dean wouldn't utter them. As he swept his eyes across the opposite wall Sam noticed a small red splodge amongst the neon picks and greens.

Trying not to make more sound than was necessary Sam attentively stepped over the discarded bottles. Slowly making his way to the other wall. He didn't need to look to know that Dean was following him just as cautiously. He could feel Dean's presence behind him, Sam's skin tingling slight from how close his brother was.

As he got closer to the wall the more defined the red splodge became until Sam could make out the distinct shape of fingers. His stomach sank with the realization that someone had tried to escape and from the lack of any other blood smears they had probably only made it that far before being dragged back. The question was dragged back to where though as the room was door and windowless.

Cautiously Sam ran his hand along the wall, his fingers sliding through the thick layer of dust and dirt easily. Now that he was closer it was clearer to see that half the bloody print was missing, only the top half and a partial of the thumb showing. Sam squinted in the half light, gently running his finger tips along the edge of print were it disappeared. He could feel a small ridge, the side that wasn't covered in blood slight razed compared to the side that was.

Suddenly the wall was bathed in a bright light causing Sam to snap his head round so he could look over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of black behind the bright pool of light before it was moving lower down. Flicking his eyes up he watched as Dean turned his head back from where he had been glancing out the open doorway. As soon as he noticed Sam's intense glare he smiled brightly his green eyes shimmering with amusement.

Shaking his head at his brothers complete inability to warn people before he did something Sam turned his attention back to the wall and the faded floral print wallpaper that covered it. Frowning slightly Sam raised his hand once more as he traced his eyes over the deep red mark. The light from Dean's torch was casting a small shadow up the wall, the edge of the print lining up perfectly with it.

Sam ran his fingers a little harder up the grove, following it half way up the wall before sliding them back down. The wall creaked as it moved under the slight pressure, bouncing back into place as soon as he moved his hand away.

Moving closer until he was almost pushed flush against the wall Sam ran his fingers quickly up the small gap, his height working to his advantage as his fingers shot up towards the ceiling. As he moved his fingers along the top of the wall Sam pushed himself tighter against the wall and raising up onto his toes so he could get a better grip on the top of the wall.

About half way across his fingers bumped into a small catch. Smiling in triumph Sam pushed down on the small button before quickly moving back, bumping against Dean as he tried to avoid getting hit by the swinging section of wall.

Dean's flashlight flickered off casting the room into a hazy half light that filtered in through the new doorway. Raising his machete Sam slowly made his way through the new doorway already filtering through the possibilities of what they could find on the other side of the wall. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light from the naked bulbs that hung sporadically from the ceiling it was clear to see they had found themselves in nothing but a long empty hallway.

Though he was relieved that it was empty Sam couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that it wasn't a room full of vampires. He hated nights like this when he knew they were most likely outnumbered with a high chance of getting the crap beaten out of them before they could even the odds let alone kill a whole nest. Then on top of that they had to find the missing girls, hoping against all odds that most of them were still alive and then they had to find Little Miss Mysterious that was just radiating suspicion, but hay it's all in a day's work right.

It was going to be a long night and Sam knew they would be lucky if they made it back to the hotel before dawn, though it would most likely be closer to midday before they were ready to leave this place. If that was the case then they would have to stick around to nightfall, not stupid or desperate enough to try and attempt the mile long walk back to the Impala covered in blood and reeking of smoke.

Swinging his machete around as he flexed his wrist Sam started to make his way down the hallway slowly making his way deeper into nest territory, Dean not far behind him. He heard Dean pull the hidden door closed behind them, the hinged squeaking their protest at being moved again so suddenly. The faint sound of distant traffic disappeared with the soft click of the wall slotting back into place and cutting off their escape route, their only choice to go forward now. The only sound in the closed of space was the faint echo of their footsteps as they slowly moved forward.

Sam's senses were on high alert, his ears straining for any sound as his eyes flickered around looking for any sign of a lurking attacker or a damned door that lead off the stupidly long corridor because seriously who designed this place? It felt more like a maze than anything and if they didn't find a door soon Sam was going to make one.

After what felt like way to long following the doorless corridor the sound of harsh whispering voices reached Sam's ears. Stopping at the sudden bend in the corridor Sam pushed himself flat against the wall, Dean doing the same next to him. Their shoulders bumped against one another's as Dean pushed himself back against the wall, getting as close to Sam as he could without hindering his ability to move if an attack should come.

Taking a deep breath Sam poked his head around the corner trying not to over think why he was taking all the major risks tonight. Instantly his eyes locked onto the two men that stood arguing. They were both well built, muscular, both of them looking like they could go a round or eight. The one on the right was dressed smartly in a black suit, his short red hair slicked back whilst the other was in faded jeans and a white wife beater, his bald head gleaming slightly the bright light.

Pulling his eyes away from the two men Sam observed there surrounding. The corridor gave way to a small room that looked to be about the same size as the one they had first stumbled upon. The two men stood in the middle of the doorway their angry voices getting louder with every word they exchanged.

"What were you thinking letting him go out and hunt". The red head hissed, his posture ridged as he glared at the man next to him. "We're hungry Stain. You expecting us to just starve?" The bald guy didn't even bother to turn and look at the man next to him, his southern drawl sounding bored with a tinge of annoyance. "Yes. When there are hunters sniffing around I expect you to do what is right not what _he_ tells you. That is unless you want the family slaughtered".

Pulling his head back round Sam turned to look at Dean waiting for his opinion on the matter as he thought about how it was a little late for the vamps to be worrying about hunters now. Flexing his arm Dean swung his machete up, the dim light gleaming off the polished metal. Smiling grimly Dean nodded his head, his green eyes darting back down the corridor as he craned his neck to look behind them.

Breathing deeply Sam gripped the handle of his blade tighter, preparing himself for the massacre that was about to take place. Silently he sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that the girls were still alive, a stupid plea he knew but he could all but hope.

Poking his head back round the corner to check that they still had their backs to the corridor before he started to move. Looking back over his shoulder Sam quickly nodded to his brother before sliding round the corner and slowly making his way towards the two vamps. He pushed himself flat against the dark wall, hoping that his movements would be lost in the shadows. His eyes darted from the still arguing vampires across to the other side of the corridor were Dean was doing the same, his expression grim as he kept his eyes on the vampires.

Sam knew what he was thinking, though he never speaks of his feelings Sam could read them as clear as day. Dean had a nasty habit of bottling it all up, slamming up his walls and hiding it all behind his cocky attitude and his shit eating grin but Sam knew what went on behind the false bravado.

It was the little things that gave him away, the way his shoulders tensed, the small quirk of his lips, his clenching jaw but it was his eyes that gave away the most. Those beautiful deep green pools that could hold so much emotion that sometimes it made Sam feel like he was drowning if he stared into them for too long.

Sam knew his brother, knew that at that exact moment he was worrying about the odds of them coming out of this alive, trying not to think about how unlikely it was for all the girls to still be alive all the while worrying about how to keep Sam safe. Though Dean didn't want Sam to know that he felt it all, all the worry and guilt that came with the job not to mention the self hatred and complete lack on self respect he couldn't hide all the things Sam had spent a lifetime learning, all those signs Sam had studied until he could read Dean like an open book. Well almost open. Some of the pages might be a little fuzzy or dog eared but he knew Dean better than anyone, better than his brother thought he did. He just needed Dean to fill in the blanks sometimes when all he had was the outline.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand Sam darted his eyes back to the two vampires that were still arguing, seemingly unaware of the two hunters slowly approaching. Chewing nervously on the inside of his lips Sam darted his eyes around the small room in front as more of it was exposed. This all seemed a little too easy and their luck really wasn't that good.

Once they were almost upon their targets Sam stopped, glancing over at Dean to see he had done the same. Exchanging a quick look and a curt nod they both darted forward swinging their blades up and round, but before they could even reach their intended targets the two men spun around, ducking the would be fatal blows.

The force of the missed blow sent Sam stumbling into empty air, the bald vampire spinning away and turning, coming up behind him. Quickly Sam regained his footing swinging around to face the guy, finally getting a good look at his face. Sam recognised him instantly, his dark eyes and twisted smile to ugly to easily forget.

He was the one who had bumped into Hope at the bar giving her kidnaper the perfect opportunity to slip her the drugs. So it had been a two man job all along, it explained a lot really. The black haired guy would reel them in and then baldie would distract them, after all no teenage girl was going to argue with a guy that size.

Razing his blade Sam returned the vampires dark smile with a sarcastic quirk of his lips before he was darting forward again, swinging his machete round in a long curve aiming for the guys neck. Before the blade could connect with the exposed flesh a fist hit him hard in the chest knocking the wind out of him.

Sam's eyes slipped closed for just a moment as he gasped for breath but it was the opportunity the vampire had been waiting for. The larger man was on him in an instant, fists and elbows slamming into Sam in quick concession.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_. This really wasn't going how Sam hoped it would. Sure he had known it would be hard but he didn't think he would be getting his ass handed to him by the first vampire he came across. He could feel himself being backed into the wall, caged in by the still smirking, smug looking vamp, so damned happy for himself that he had one up on a hunter. Sam could only hope that Dean was faring better than him.

A pained cry filled the air followed by the clatter of a knife falling to the floor and Sam knew he had spoke to soon. Sam snapped his head to the side to check on his brother, quickly taking in that the other vampire had him pinned against the wall with a large hand wrapped around his throat.

Before Sam could even think about doing anything a large hand was wrapping around his wrist squeezing tightly. Gritting his teeth Sam tried to yank his arm free but all that happened was the grip got tighter until his fingers spasmed under the pressure and his knife fell free of his grip. The guy continued to squeeze, his grip getting tighter and tighter. Sam could feel the bones grinding together, could feel them starting to give under the pressure. "Enough!"

Instantly the pressure vanished as the guy let his wrist go. As Sam tried to will feeling back into his hand he was yanked forward, tripping over his own feet and stumbling to the floor, his knees hitting the concrete with a loud thud.

Wincing Sam shot his left hand out to brace his weight, his nails scratching at the hard floor as he tried to remember how to breath and push his pain to the back of his mind. Glancing to the side he saw Dean being shoved down next to him, his face red and dark angry spots already starting to form around his throat that looked way to much like a handprint for Sam's liking.

A low moan pulled Sam's attention away from his brother just in time to see a strung out Hope being shoved towards the wall to the right of them. A pained gasp escaped from between her lips as she slowly slid down the wall landing in a heap on the dirty floor.

Running his eyes over her Sam quickly took in the state she was in. Her tanned skin was flushed, her eyes hooded and pupils blown wide, her lips parted as she breathed heavily. Rolling her head to the side she squinted at them, confusion creasing her brows. A lazy smile tugged at her lips and instantly Sam knew she had recognised them.

Mentally Sam screamed at her to keep her mouth shut, levelling her with an angry glare hoping that she would get the message. They needed her alive to interrogate not half dead and in need of a blood transfusion. But obviously she didn't get the message because the next thing Sam knew she was lifting her arm to point a delicate finger towards them, her hand bobbing just a few inches above her leg. "Hayyyyy I remberrrr ou".

At her slurred words the black haired vampire that had taken her snapped his head round, glaring at her with such disgust it was clear to see he thought of her as one thing and one thing only. "Urrrr the guyyysssss with the sexyyyy caaar".

"Shut up you annoying little blood sack". The vampire growled at her, taking a threatening step towards a dazed looking Hope. She shut up almost instantly, frowning slightly before she went back to smiling widely at the brothers. Sam didn't know what they had given her but dear god she was out of it.

She looked like she could barely focus on the hand in front of her let alone them all the way over on the other side of the room. Though he supposed her drugged state was a good thing as they wouldn't have to worry about her lashing out or trying to run. All they had to do was keep her alive and to do that they needed to make sure they left the warehouse with their heads attached and as much blood as possible still inside their bodies.

Turning his cold gaze back to the brothers the vampire smiled brightly, all trace of anger and disgust being replaced with charm and politeness. "Hunters! What a fabulous rarity you are". The guy sounded far to cheerful, his whole attitude and look making him seem more like a sleazy car salesman instead of the deadly killer he was meant to be.

Stepping forward until he was only a few feet away from Sam he waved a hand as if he was dismissing servants. The vampire behind Sam tightened his grip on Sam's shoulder, his fingernails digging into Sam's flesh like five tiny blades. Gritting his jaw Sam fought against the hiss of pain that was trying to escape, it wouldn't do to show weakness in front of these people. "Leave us".

The man's grip on Sam's shoulder tightens impossibly more causing Sam to bite down on the inside of his mouth, his teeth slicing through the fragile skin and flooding his mouth with fresh blood. The metallic tang of his own blood smothered his taste buds, the taste so familiar by now that Sam could swallow a good few mouthfuls and think nothing of it, almost like he was drinking water.

Slowly the fingers uncurled, the guy shoving against Sam's shoulder as his hand slipped free. Sam could feel the guy moving behind him, could hear the light squeaks of his trainers as he began to walk away. Sam's head jerked forward as he smacked him around the back of the head, the force of the blow sending spikes of pain shooting through his head.

Keeping his head down, his long hair hiding the glare he was sending to the floor Sam clenched his hands into tight fists against his thighs. It was the only thing he could do to stop himself from leaping forward and trying to rip the fangs head off with his bare hands.

It was typical that he would end up with the overly physical one, it seemed to be the universes greatest past time of late to screw him over in every conceivable way at every opportunity that presented its self. Dean's pain filled grunt filled the air and Sam could only imagine what his vampire was giving him as a goodbye gift. It couldn't be good.

Sam watched as a pair of black shoes invaded his field of vision, the smart dress shoes clicking away into the unseen distance. Sam wanted so much to dart his hand out and grab the guys ankle, pulling his feet out from under him and use his fall as a distraction, but Sam wasn't stupid. He knew that would only lead to them getting the shit beaten out of them again. No they had to wait for the right moment no matter how tempting the idea was.

A startled moan pulled Sam away from the mental talk down he was giving himself, his head jerking up to see Hope getting yanked up off the floor. The bald guys grip looked just as tight on her arm as it had been on Sam's shoulder as he dragged her out of the room.

_Shit, shit, shit_. Now what were they going to do? By the time they managed to get out of here she would most likely be dead, drained dry and nothing but a cold body on the floor. They would never find out if she was just your average psycho or if she was the monster Sam believed her to be and if Sam was being honest with himself he was kind of good at attracting the worst kind of monsters that roamed this planet so it made sense that she would be one.

Sam watched with thinly veiled desperation as she was dragged around the corner and out of sight, the sound of her shoes sliding across the floor echoing back to them from wherever she was being taken to die. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, she won't feel a thing".

Sam darted his eyes up to glare daggers at the smug looking prat of a vampire that was smiling triumphantly down at him, his too white teeth showing. "Well, not until the first few pints have been drained anyway". He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively causing Sam to snarl at him. God he really hated this guy.

"You smug bastard". Dean's rough voice cut through Sam's thoughts like a sharpened blade accompanied by the unmistakeable sounds of Dean pushing himself up off the floor, ready to attack. Before Sam could even turn to stare at his brother and will him to back the hell off because he was unarmed and likely to get his head kicked in Sam found himself with the muzzle of a gun pressing against his forehead.

Sam's eyes widened as he pulled in a shocked gasp, his body tensing as it reacted to the familiar situation. His first thought was _'really twice in one day, this is getting kind of stupid'_ before his mind stated to run through every possible way he knew to disable his attacker, but the muzzle was pressed tight against his temple, the metal digging in. The vampires finger was already pressing gently against the trigger, not enough to end Sam's life but enough of a threat that if either of them should so much as twitch Sam's brains were going to end up splattered against the wall behind him.

"I don't think so repast*". The vampire was smiling sweetly at Dean now, his head turned away from Sam but Sam knew he could still see him, would notice if he made a move and then it would be bye bye Sam hello faceless corpse. "Now why don't you get back on your knees where you belong blood sack".

That sickly sweet voice was really starting to grate against Sam's nerves. He desperately wanted to tell Dean to stop always putting him first and take the smug blood sucker down. It didn't matter what happened to Sam they had to try and save those girls at all costs. They had to take Hope down.

Sam's shoulders sagged in disappointment as he heard Dean sink back to his knees. So predictable in his need to protect his little brother, something Sam had told him countless times he didn't have to do, not any more.

Sam could imagine the glare Dean was fixing on the vamp, all dark and brooding. He knew it would hold the promise of all the things Dean would do to him once he could because no one threatened Sam and lived to talk about. Well almost no one, Dean and Cas were the exceptions.

How was it that they always managed to find themselves in these kind on situations? It seemed like it had become a weekly occurrence these days and that should really worry Sam because it was only ever dumb luck or a freak act of nature that they even managed to come out of half their hunts alive these days. They really needed to start practicing again, maybe brush up on the evasion technique and their survival skills because they clearly needed it.

A deep sigh pulled Sam away from planning what areas him and Dean need to start working on when they got out of here. Sam darted his eyes back up from where they had fallen and back to the gun and the vampire's pale hand.

The playful, smug look had vanished from his pale face, his disgust for humankind showing through once more. "Now there's a good little meat sack". Dear god Sam wanted to punch him, right in the face and mess up his pretty boy good looks. The thought surprised Sam as it was something Dean would normally come out with but since his time in hell Sam had been surprising himself a lot and most of the time not in a good way.

"Now what to do with you". He made a show of rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling, pretending to think over his options though Sam could guess it would end with them becoming dinner. "I think I will shoot bigfoot here, make you watch him bleed out then rip your throat out".

Smiling brightly he pushed the gun harder against Sam's head. Sam knew there would be a bruise there by morning, knew Dean would probably get a good few laughs out of that. He would make a few crap jokes about Sam finally getting a target on his head to make it easier for all the people who wanted him dead. "You know I think I'm going to enjoy this, now say goodbye to lover boy".

Still smiling the vampire turned his dark blue eyes towards Sam, his smile wicked now instead of sickly sweet. Locking his gaze with the man that stood in front of him Sam braced himself for his inevitable death. It was a conversation Sam had had many times over the past few years with himself that all he needed to do now was take a deep breath and go _'hay this is it, brace yourself'_. He could only hope that Dean managed to take the vamps head of before he could keep his promise and rip Dean's throat out.

He could hear Dean shifting next to him already starting his attack but Sam knew he would be too late. The guy was faster, the muzzle to close and Dean wouldn't be able to save him, not this time. "Goodbye lover boy".

The unfamiliar voice reverberated around Sam's skull as he watched something flicker in the light as it quickly passed over the vampires face. The gun fell from his hands hitting the floor just between Sam's legs as his hands shot up to claw against his neck, a strangled cry escaping from between his lips.

Sam knelt there paralyzed, watching with wide eyes as blood started to dribble down the guys neck, his fingers scratching at something Sam couldn't see. Suddenly his blue eyes went wide and his body jerked forward, slumping into a heap on the floor, his severed head falling to the floor with a dull thud, rolling off towards the corner.

Sam watched the bloody head role past Dean before he slowly raised his eyes to look up at his standing brother but Dean wasn't paying any attention to him. His wide green eyes were fixed on something past Sam, a look on his face somewhere between shock and confusion, not an unusual look of Dean.

Frowning Sam turned his head back coming face to foot with a pair of black cowboy boots. Slowly Sam dragged his eyes up over skin tight black jeans, over an exposed tanned stomach framed by a soft looking leather jacket. Up over black PVC and blood splattered breasts, all the way up over smirking lips until his eyes locked on sparkling green ones.

Quickly Sam pushed himself up off the floor, stumbling backwards over his own feet as he stared in shock at the young women in front of him. Hope was smiling triumphantly down at the headless body at her feet, blood splattered over her face and disappearing into her hair. All trace of the doped up useless mess she had been gone, replaced by a calm arrogance that left her radiating superiority.

Shifting his stance slightly Sam took a step back towards Dean, weary of the women who had just saved his life. "How did you..." Before Sam could even get the rest of the question out Hope was snapping her eyes back up to his, her smile bright and wide. Once again Sam was reminded of Dean, couldn't help but see the resemblance though he couldn't understand why.

"Get out? I'm good with my hands, plus you know no one ever checks the boots". Smirking she pointed down to her boots drawing Sam's attention to the dripping wire she had wrapped around her blood soaked hands.

Suitably Sam turned his head slightly, darting his eyes over to his abandoned machete, trying to figure out how long it would take him to grab it and swing it back round so the blade was pressing against Hope's throat. "But you were..."

Once again she cut through the conversation, though this time it was Dean she deemed unworthy of speech. "Higher than a shooting star? Yer well me and drugs don't go to well together so I threw up whilst pretty boy here was poffing his hair". She nudged the vampires body as she spoke, causing it to rock slightly.

Whilst her attention was elsewhere Sam turned to look at Dean, rolling his eyes towards the abandoned blade hoping that his brother would understand what he meant. Sam knew he would be able to keep her distracted long enough for Dean to grab the machete and then hopefully knock her out so they could go and save the other girls, you know the real reason they were here in the first place.

Nodding his head slightly, a barely there tilt that you wouldn't notice unless you were really looking for it, Dean flickered his eyes towards the long blade. "That's cute, that whole non verbal communication thing you two have going on. Bet that comes in real useful on hunts".

Eyes wide Sam snapped his head back round to look at Hope, one of her eyebrows razed as she smile sweetly, a knowing glint in her eyes. She didn't seem bothered by the amount of blood covering her face, didn't even seem to notice that it was splattered over her eyelids and coating her lips. In fact she didn't really seem to care she was in a room with two deadly people who clearly didn't trust her.

This wasn't right. They were wasting time playing around with her. They needed to find the other girls before it was too late, before they had five extra bodies on their hands and no way to explain them away. Well no reason that wouldn't get them back on the FBI's radar and make them sound seven different shades of crazy.

"Look out!" Dean's warning echoed around the small room and instantly Hope ducked, just missing the blade that would of hit her square in the neck if she hadn't of moved. Sam watched in stunned silence as she ducked and weaved, a wide smile on her face as she practically danced around her opponent. It was almost as if she could predict what was coming next, could see his choices before he made them as she dodged and spun away from his attacks, landing blow after blow on the much larger man.

Sam would have stood and admired her obvious skill, marvelled at how she so effortlessly fought but the room was quickly filling with the rest of the nest. Diving for his fallen blade Sam dove into action, ducking a swinging fist and spinning out and round from under the guys arm. Without a pause to think Sam swung his machete up and round as he stood, taking the guys head off with one fatal blow.

He didn't stop to watch the headless body fall to the floor instead spinning round and diving straight into another attack. This was something Sam could do, was good at even. He could feel the familiar buzz of adrenaline pumping through his veins, pushing him forward. He could barely feel the strain on his muscles as he pushed his body harder than he had in a good few weeks.

Punching his new attacker in the stomach Sam took the opportunity to bring his blade down on the guys neck as he doubled over from the force of Sam's blow. Warm blood splattered over his face as he swung his blade up, spinning on the spot as he looked for another attacker.

Bodies littered the floor, at least six headless corpses strewn across the concrete, their blood seeping out of their wounds and forming large pools on the floor. To anyone else this would look like a scene out of a horror film but to Sam this was a sign of a job well done. It meant that they were winning and Sam really didn't want to admit that it had anything to do with the extra set of hands that were currently pulling her silver wire tight across a snarling mans throat as he desperately tried to prise her hands free.

A familiar cry of pain shot through Sam's thoughts. Snapping his head round he was just in time to see Dean being thrown across the room, his body hitting the far wall with a loud thud. "Dean!" Yelling his brother's name Sam darted forward as the vampire advanced on Dean's unconscious body that was now heaped at the bottom of the wall.

The vampire turned to smile at Sam as he swung his machete, aiming for his neck but the man ducked and spun out of Sam's line of attack, growling as he went. Spinning Sam advanced on the guy but he was quick on his feet avoiding all of Sam's fatal blows and the ones that did connect only just grazing him.

The adrenaline from earlier was fading, panic starting to take its place as Sam was once again crowded back against the wall. All to soon he was pinned against the wall with nowhere to go, his still swinging machete the only thing keeping him from having his throat ripped out.

As he brought his blade up to try and force the burly man back a large hand shot out to wrap around his throat as the other grasped his wrist tightly. Growling the vamp slammed Sam's wrist back against the wall. Pain shot through his arm, his already injured wrist throbbing. Groaning in pain as his wrist was ground against the wall Sam's fingers twitched, his blade falling from his hand once more and clattering to the floor. The faint sound of his wrist snapping ringing loudly in his ears.

Gasping for breath Sam's free hand shot up, trying to prise the hand off of his neck but it was useless, his nails scratching against tanned skin as the guys grip tightened. Sam could feel his windpipes starting to give under the pressure as he struggled to breath, the world around him becoming hazy as he started to slip into unconsciousness.

As the world started to fade Sam couldn't help but think that this was it, this was how he was going to die. He had survived the apocalypse, lived through hell, saved countless lives and gone against all the odds that he was going to turn out a monster only to die at the hands of a steroid filled vampire that probably didn't even have two brain cells to rub together. He always knew he would die on the job, like almost every other hunter but this was not how he had imagined it going.

He could only hope that Dean's death was quick, that was if he wasn't turned instead. Dean would never be able to live as one of them, didn't deserve to become a monster. "I'm going to enjoy ripping your guts out". The vampire smiled darkly at him, his eyes gleaming with hunger and the anticipation of what he was going to do to Sam.

Sam gasped as he was yanked forward only to be slammed back against the wall, pain shooting through his skull as it collided with the brick with a dull cracking. Briefly Sam wondered if his skull had been broken but the world was fading fast, his eye lids drooping closed. The last thing he could here was a muffled voice calling out. It sounded so familiar but before he could remember where he had heard it before everything went black, the world ceasing to exist.

Staring down at the limp body in his hands he smiled triumphantly. He had never had the pleasure of killing a hunter before and now with his brothers out of the way he had two all to himself. He was going to have so much fun ripping them apart and sucking them dry. "You really shouldn't have done that".

The exasperated voice from behind had him turning his head slightly, his eyes darting over his shoulder. Ah yes there was another one, how could he have forgotten that sweet smelling little blood sack that was practically screaming to be ripped into.

Smirking he released his hold on the hunter, letting his body crumble to the floor. Slowly he turned to face the young blood splattered women, watching with amusement as she stepped over the headless bodies of his fallen brothers, twisting her sharp cord around her hands. He could smell her blood as the wire cut into her skin, could practically taste it on his tongue. Oh he was going to enjoy this.

"And why is that little girl?" She raised an eyebrow at him as if he was asking an obvious question, her tongue sneaking out to swipe across her blood covered lips as she slowly continued to make her way towards him.

Smirking he thought about all the wicked things he was going to do to her before he killed her, wondered how long it would take her to start begging for death, but that was if he killed her. Now family-less he needed to start a new one and why not start with a sweet little thing like her, something to tempt others back to the nest so he could devour them. And being the generous maker he was he would give her the choice of which one of her companions she would liked turned and witch one should die.

Her smile got wider as she stopped just out of arms reach, her green eyes darkening. He watched with amusement as she deliberately blinked, her eyelids snapping open to expose black pools of nothingness. Jerking back in shock he eyed the demon before him, horrified that he had missed the putrid sent their kind gave off, but even now as he stood face to face with her he could only smell the sweet tang of apples and youth. He wouldn't have known she was a soulless beast if he couldn't see the evidence.

"Because now I can do this". With a bat of her eyelids he found himself flying across the room, his back slamming into the opposite wall. Crying out he tried to get free of the invisible force that held him pinned against the wall. His nails clawed at air as he desperately tried to pull the hands away from his neck.

"You see whilst they were wide awake and far to alert for their own good I had to be on my best behaviour. Can't go giving the game away to early now can I?" The women's voice was light and playful almost like this was some sort of game. He watched as she moved from one unconscious body to the next, smiling fondly down at them but making no attempt to rouse them or even check they were still breathing.

Anger and panic pushed against one another as he watched until finally his anger won out and left him growling and snarling as he pushed forward, desperate to get free and rip the smug little bitch into pieces.

Crying out in shock he found himself flying through the air once more, his body being slammed down against the floor. His knees made a loud crack as they hit the concrete and he knew his kneecaps were fucked. Now kneeling on the floor much like the hunters had been before, he lifted his head to watch as the young women knelt down next to the shorter one of the two hunters. She smiled fondly at him as she gently ran the back of her hand down the side of his face in something close to a lovers caress.

Snarling at her he tried to lunge forward but found his body stuck to the ground, unable to so much as wiggle his fingers let alone raise his arms to strangle her. " Ah, ah, ah. None of that now. Try and die with a little bit of dignity wont you".

Pushing herself back up and round she wrapped her long fingers around the handle of the hunters fallen machete, the blade making a high pitched squeal as she dragged it along the floor. He watched with horror as she slowly made her way towards him, humming something far to happy for the situation they were in as she moved behind him and out of his line of sight.

Franticly he tried to break free but the only part of him that he could move was his head. He screamed out in pain as she plunged her hand into his hair, grapping a fist full and yanking his head back exposing his neck.

He felt the edge of the blade as she pushed it gently against his jugular, the action full of threat and left his body trembling. "Let me tell you a little secret". He stopped his futile attempts to escape as soon as he felt her cool breath ghosting over his ear. He could feel the power humming around her as she pushed her body close against his.

He couldn't help but notice how steady her heartbeat was, how normal her breathing was. She was so calm and relaxed, as if she was doing nothing more than brushing her teeth or making a cup of coffee and not about to end his life.

Absentmindedly he imagined the kind of vampire she would have made. She would have been perfect, all charm and seduction masking the deadly killer that hid just under the surface. Just waiting to be set free and feel all that lovely warm blood flowing through her veins and gushing down her chin.

"This world is going to die in a fiery blaze of blood and sorrow and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Well almost no one". His eyes widened flickering over to the two unconscious men. She couldn't mean what he thought she did, could she? He had heard tales of hunters defeating grate evils but these two, they wouldn't stand a chance in hell. "Shame you won't be around to see it".

He only briefly managed a quick thought of this is it before the blade was slicing through his jugular, tearing through tissue and muscle, slicing through bone, his cry dying on his tongue before it had even slipped past his lips.

His body fell to the ground with a dull thud, blood gushing from his severed neck. Smiling Hope razed his head, turning it around so she could look into his wide lifeless eyes. Laughing she flung the head behind her as she made her way over to Dean, the head flying through the open doorway and hitting an unseen wall with a wet thud.

Crouching down next to Dean's unconscious body Hope slipped her hand inside his jacket. Making a small noise of triumph she pulled her hand back, a set of keys dangling from her middle finger. She had been waiting a life time to get her hands on this car and now that it was all hers for the taking. Oh she was going to have some fun but first thing first, she had some bodies that needed to be burned before the cops turned up.

It wouldn't do to get caught so early in the game and she really did hate killing people when it wasn't necessary. Well, most of the time anyway.


	10. Get Your Hands Off My Girl

A/N: So another one again, why so soon I hear you ask. Well I had some time off so this is what I did instead of all the other stuff I was supposed to do. As always only Hope belongs to me. I'm sorry if you spot any mistakes, I am looking for a beta but I have yet to find one who will take on a Wincest, the shame of it. Please, please review because I would love to know what you think. I hope you are having a good day, night or whatever other time of the day you are reading this. All the best and thanks for sticking with me.

**Get Your Hands Off My Girl**

Dean came back to reality on a wave of pain and fog. Everything hurt. His body felt like he had gone ten rounds with a brick wall and his head had been shoved into a dryer and set to spin cycle. It wasn't the worst he had ever felt but it defiantly wasn't pleasant. Taking a deep breath he tried to remember what it was he had been doing before everything went dark.

They had been working a case out in Fort Worth, which was kind of ironic really, all things considered. Dean didn't know how they had missed all the news bulletins' and missing posters the first time round, the only explanation was they had been too preoccupied to notice.

They had figured out it was vampires pretty quickly and he and Sam had gone their separate ways to gather as much information as quickly as possible. All roads had lead to the shitty local Goth club and that night they had made their way there in hopes of finding a vampire that could lead them back to the nest.

He had spotted one almost instantly, had watched as the pretty boy made the rounds even daring to touch his Sammy but Dean had let it go, knowing that he had to wait for the right time to kick the assholes teeth in for touching something that clearly wasn't his to be playing around with. To tell the truth he had been kind of surprised that Sam hadn't beaten the shit out of him for it, Sam really hated it when people got to handsie with him.

Once he had reinstated his claim on Sam he had watched the guy stalk around the room until he spotted his newest victim. Dean had been ready to charge after the gun and lob his head of right there and then but something had distracted him. No, not something but someone. Hope.

Hope had been there eyeing up the vampire just as much as he had been her. Dean had panicked, to worried about what Sam would do to her to really process what was happening in front of him. She hadn't stood a chance against a vampire. The guy had taken her before Dean had really understood what was happening and then the chase was on.

They had followed the pair back to the nest, Dean trying to figure out how the two of them were going to take apart a whole nest of unknown numbers, save however many of the six girls that were still alive and keep Sam from beating the crap out of Hope. He really didn't think it was going to be possible.

They had made it into the heart of the nest without coming across any vampires which was kind of suspicious only to have their asses handed to them by a couple of dimwit lackeys. Right up until that smug pretty boy vamp was back dragging a strung out Hope behind him Dean had been convinced it was a set up, that Sam had been right all along and he had just been too stupid to see it.

Dean had tried to get the upper hand but the guy had threatened Sam's life and since when did vampires use guns? The guy had seriously been watching too much Underworld. Sam's life meant more to Dean than anything so he had sunk back down onto his knees, gritting his teeth as he patiently waited for the right time to strike but he had never got the chance.

The guys head was the other side of the room before Dean had registered what was happening and then he had been to stunned to do anything but stair slack jawed and shocked at what he had seen. Hope had been all calm confidence and excitement, no trace of the drugged up mess she had been just moments ago.

The suspicion was back at full force because no one could act that well and the drugs would have been in her system before she got the chance to throw up. A vampire wouldn't have missed that either, even if he was preoccupied with his own vanity.

Before Dean could do anything though the rest of the nest was upon them, full of rage and swinging their own weapons around. He had managed to take the head off of one vamp but before he could even swing his machete back up another one was on him.

The last thing he could remember was the wall hurtling towards him and Sam screaming his name before pain shot through his head and everything went dark.

Sighing Dean sank back into the chair he was slumped in, the soft worn leather a familiar comfort, the gentle hum of the engine lulling him into a hazy state somewhere between asleep and awake. The Impala. He was in the Impala safe and still all in one piece though his throat stung like a bitch.

Sam had made it out then. That was good and if he was driving it meant he was relatively unharmed though Dean had drive almost eighty miles before with a busted shoulder so he shouldn't jump to any conclusions before he had taken a good look at his brother.

As Dean sat there, eyes shut tight against the hazy light he started to process more of the world around him, the gentle hum of the Impala fading into the background. The air was warm, warmer than it should be this time of year so the heater had to be on, though it really didn't need to be. The car was just getting to that stage where it was uncomfortably warm and if Sam didn't turn the heating down soon Dean was sure he was going to melt.

There was a faint smell of apples in the air tinged with something vaguely like sulphur but cleaner almost like Cas smelt but sweeter. Dean didn't recognise it, couldn't remember being near some who even smelled remotely like that. He supposed it had to be from the warehouse, the smell soaking into their cloths and skin like they were giant sponges.

Now that he was more alert Dean could hear the faint murmur of voices coming from the stereo, turned down so low that the words were only just audible if you strained to hear them. Scrunching his face up in concentration Dean tried to figure out what song it was Sam was listening to. He really hoped it wasn't any of the whiny emo crap he liked because he really couldn't be dealing with that right now.

It was only as it went into the chorus that Dean recognised the unmistakable squeak of the singer. Groaning Dean turned in his seat until his back was pressed against the door, his eyes still tightly closed against the light. "Dude, Bon Jovi? Really Sammy, I thought even you had better taste than that".

Gentle laughter filled the car but it sounded all wrong. That couldn't be Sam could it? Dean knew his brothers laughter, could pick it out of a crowed but this, it sounded familiar, sort of like Sam's but not as deep, more lighter, feminine. "Hay there sleepy head".

Dean's eyes snapped open, his hand slipping down to grab his gun as he pushed himself up. When his hand just slid against his sweaty skin Dean started to panic, his mind reeling with all the possibilities but the constant chant of _fuck fuck fuck_ playing in the back of his mind was really distracting.

Hope's gentle laughter filled the car as she shifted in the driver's seat, smiling brightly as she watched the road ahead of them. With something close to trepidation Dean watched as she took one hand off the wheel and leant forward slightly, her eyes never leaving the road.

His eyes darted down to watch as Hope slipped her free hand into her left cowboy boot. Dean sucked in a deep breath, tensing as he prepared for whatever she was about to do. He would jump her but he couldn't risk crashing the car, not again.

Jerking back Hope thrust her hand out towards him. On instinct Dean shoved himself back against the car door, the handle digging painfully into his back as he tried to put as much space as he could between them. Smirking Hope spun his gun round in her hand till the handle was facing him.

Dean stared at the offered weapon, unmoving and unsure of what to do. He was still a little foggy from the blow he had taken to the head and the fact that it was this women in his car was kind of confusing. "Sorry, didn't think it would be that comfortable with this jammed into your spine and I didn't want to lose it".

Slowly Dean lifted his hand towards he outstretched one. Though his hand wasn't shaking he could feel his nerves trembling through his body. Was this a trap? Was she just waiting for him to take the bait and then that was it, no more Dean Winchester? Had Sam been right all along and she was a cold blooded killer?

But she had saved their lives, had risked her own to go back for them and get their sorry asses out of trouble. If she was going to kill them surly she wouldn't of done that, that is unless she wanted the pleasure of ending their lives herself.

That didn't explain why she had been in Fort Worth in the first place, unless she was stalking them. Getting to know her victim before hand, lulling them into a false sense of security before she took their lives. She wouldn't be the first thing they had hunted to do that and she sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

Keeping his eyes trained on her Dean curled his fingers around the handle. As soon as he had a good enough grip Dean yanked his hand back and quickly started to fumble with the gun, checking over it to make sure it hadn't been tampered with and that it was still loaded.

Hope's way to cheery laughter filled the car once more, pushing Dean on in his haste to reassemble his gun. Once the magazine clicked back into place Dean griped the gun tightly and pointed it at Hope's head, the muzzle only a few inches from her temple. "Where's Sam?"

Hope sighed, her smile falling from her lips. Something dark flickered across her features before it melted away and she was smiling again. It all happened so quickly that Dean thought he might of imagined it but he was sure something had been there. Something dark and deadly just pulsing under the surface.

"You know a hello wouldn't go amiss. Maybe a thanks for saving your sorry ass from becoming the weekend buffet". Frowning grimly Dean ignored her words, pushing the muzzle of the gun tight against her head. He didn't have time to play games with her. "Where is he?"

Hope didn't flinch from the extra pressure being put on her head or even at the angry bark of his words. All she did was role her eyes as if she had been expecting this sort of reaction from him, as if people threatened her life every day. "Ugh, relax he's in the back sleeping it off".

Dean snapped his head to the side, eyes wide and searching. As soon as he saw his brother sprawled out on the back seat Dean dropped his gun onto the chair next to him and darted forwards, the back of the chair digging into his stomach in his haste to reach Sam. "Sam". When he didn't get a reply Dean shoved his two fingers against Sam's neck, checking for his pulse. He sighed in relief as soon as he could feel the steady pulse beating strongly under his fingers.

Dean dragged his eyes over Sam's unconscious body, doing a quick once over to assess the damage. There was a circular bruise forming in the middle of his forehead and five dark angry splodges on his neck, looking to much like finger prints for Dean's liking. Maybe Sam hadn't been as lucky as Dean had hoped.

Sam was led on his side facing the front of the car, his legs curled up and his right arm pulled tight against his chest, his large hand curled up on his shoulder blade. Dean could just see a ring of much darker bruises poking out of the cuff of Sam's shirt. They looked so much worse than the ones that Dean had left there, so much more violent.

Dean couldn't tell if there was any permanent damage or if Sam's arm was broken. He would have to wait until they got to a motel and Sam was awake so he could have a closer inspection. Till he could kiss the pain away and make stupid naive promises about keeping Sam safe that he would never be able to keep.

Pushing himself back Dean slid round into the chair, his hand sliding down to grasp his gun. He didn't think Hope would be stupid enough to attack him whilst he was armed but if Sam was right about her than maybe she didn't need to actually touch him to attack him. Tad and that other women hadn't shown any signs of physical violence apart from the burn marks so there was no telling what had been done to them.

"That guy is as big as a moose, there was no way I was going to fit his lanky ass up here as well as you so I put him in the back. Figured he would need that extra little bit of space more than you would". Frowning Dean bit his tongue so as not to agree with her. He didn't trust her and refused to have something in common with her.

He didn't have a clue where they were, didn't know where she was taking them. It could be somewhere remote and completely off the grid for all he knew. Somewhere where she could string them up and drain them dry with her freaky powers, just like that body out in Salt Lake.

As Hope flicked the right indicator and turned onto a new road realisation dawned on Dean and instantly he felt sick, anger boiling inside of him. "You're driving". Hope turned her head slightly so she could look at him, one eyebrow raised at the obvious question before she turned back to look at the road. "Well yer, someone had to".

She was using a tone of voice that was similar to the one that Sam used when Dean had said something so stupidly obvious that meant he was only just restraining himself from smacking Dean round the back of the head for even bothering to say it at all. Scowling at her Dean tightened his grip on his gun. Only Sam and Bobby got to talk to him like that, it was a families right.

"You're driving_ MY_ car". He sounded pissed and rightly so. No one touched his baby, not no one apart from him and Sam and on occasion Bobby. Hope laughed loudly, flashing him a bright smile and showing off her perfectly white teeth. "I didn't think you would appreciate me leaving her behind".

Changing gear Hope speed up, pushing the Impala closer and closer towards one hundred. Clenching his fists Dean only just resisted the urge to bat her hands from the wheel and demand she stop fucking with his car. He would have done it if he didn't think she would crash without her hands on the wheel. "What about your car? The 67 mustang".

Hope was full out laughing at him now, acting as if Dean had just told her a really good joke. Finally calming down after what felt like hours but in reality was only a minute or so Hope shook her head slightly and eased back into the driver's seat, looking far too comfortable for Dean's liking.

"Dean, you and me both know that cars not mine". As she spoke Dean found himself getting angrier and angrier with her. Her flippant attitude of the whole matter, the way she acted like she just belonged there, all of it grating on Dean's nerves until he snapped.

"Pull over". The demand came out as nothing more than a whisper but he knew she had heard it. Her green eyes flickering over to him before she darted them back to the road. "What?" "Pull over". His voice came out stronger this time, sounding much more like the demand it was. "We're like three hours away, can we not just..."

"I said pull over!" Dean barked the order, all his anger and frustration evident in those few words. Sighing Hope began to slow down, her eyes darting along the side of the road as she looked for somewhere to stop. A minute or so later she was pulling over onto a large grassy clearing.

As soon as the car was stopped and the engine off Dean was pushing the door open and pulling himself out , dragging his gun along the seat behind him. As he rounded the front of the car Hope swung the driver's side door open and slipped out, closing it with a soft click behind her.

She looked somewhere between bored and annoyed, as if Dean was wasting her time and that only managed to piss him off even more. As soon as he was in front of her Dean shoved her back against the car, only just missing the wing mirror. His grip was tight on her shoulder as he brought his gun up to push it against the side of her head once more.

Her green eyes widened in shock as her hands shoot up in surrender. "Who are you?" Dean barked the question at her, voice low and demanding. He wanted answers and he was going to get them now before she had a chance to do anything dangerous. "Wesson. Hope Wesson".

Wesson, Dean knew that name he was sure of it. He had heard into somewhere, somewhere important but he just couldn't think where. Dean Pushed her back against the car a little harder and keeping his eyes cold and features stern. "What were you doing in Fort Worth?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes but he couldn't see any panic in them, just shock and a faint trace of amusement. "Why were you there?" When Hope failed to answer him Dean pushed the gun more firmly against her head, hoping the threat of getting shot would get her to talk but all she did was drop her hands back down to her side and smile sadly at him.

Dean's eyes flickered over to the door next to him, a slight movement catching his eyes. The door creaked as it was pushed open and Sam quite ungracefully hauled himself out groaning as his muscles protested against being used after so long being relaxed. Sam looked rough, rougher than Dean had seen him in a while. "The girls".

At Hope's hushed words Dean turned his attention back to her, raising an eyebrow as he waited for her to continue. "Girl's were going missing, one every week for the last month or so. I couldn't just ignore that".

Hope was staring up at Dean from where she was sprawled against the car, her tone deadly serious as she glared up at him, silently daring him to say she was lying. "You're a hunter". Both of them turned to look at Sam as he spoke, his voice rough and scratchy as if he hadn't had a drink in days.

Suddenly everything made sense, well almost all of it so why hadn't they thought of it earlier? The fighting skills, the way she had managed to outsmart a vampire, hell to her they had probably screwed up her hunt. Though he supposed she could be lying. There was no way for them to verify what she was saying. "All my life".

Darting his eyes back to Hope she smiled sadly at them, her green eyes seeming dimmer than they had been just moments before. There was something there, some sort of sad story that every hunter had because no one got into this life without a reason and that reason was normally a loved one drenched in blood and now six feet under.

Pulling away from her Dean let his gun fall suddenly feeling like the biggest dick around. Hope visibly relaxed as she pushed herself away from the car and straightened up to her full height, her hand coming up to rub at her shoulder were Dean had been holding her down. "Where were you taking us?"

Dean felt like kicking himself, why hadn't he asked that? Surly it was probably one of the more important things he should have been demanding to know, but Sam had always been better at him when it came to asking stuff like that, that's why Dean let him take the lead on most of the witness interviews they did. They all just opened up to him and it had to be something to do with that puppy dog sap voice that just screamed safety, comfort and understanding. God Dean hated that voice.

Sighing Hope shoved her hands into her jeans pockets, the action causing her jacket to be pushed back slightly. For the first time since he had awoken Dean noticed she had a shirt on, the logo on the front faded and hardly recognisable. Dean was glad she had decided to change because he seriously didn't think he would have been able to concentrate with all that skin on display.

Leaning casually back against the car Hope darted her eyes between the two of them before they settled on Sam. "Sioux Falls, South Dakota". Dean's eyes widened as her words sunk in, his blood running cold as panic started to seep into his very core. Turning his head Dean looked at Sam for some sort of explanation to this crazy but he looked just as shocked and horrified as Dean felt.

Taking a deep breath Dean turned back to Hope only to find her already staring at him expectantly, waiting for his next question that she had to of known was coming. "How...why there?" Dean could feel his insides tingling with a mix of dread and anticipation as he awaited her answer.

He was going to ask her how she had known about Bobby's but decided against it at the last moment. They didn't know if she knew specifics and giving out names like that would only get other people in trouble and he couldn't be doing that to Bobby.

The thing was that they didn't just advertise to anyone that they had a safe house of sorts out there and the only people that knew about Bobby's that were still alive were Cas and Crowley. A brief thought that she might be working for that smug bastard of a demon flashed through Dean's mind and he mentally kicked himself for not testing to see if Hope was a demon or not before they had started this little interrogation. How stupid could he get?

"Well Bobby lives there doesn't he?" As soon as the words left her mouth Dean was on her once more, gun pressing against her head as he slung the other arm across her chest, pushing his body against hers and using his own weight to hold her down. "How do you know about Bobby?"

Dean growled the words out, his angry eyes locked on her wide ones, a faint flicker of panic lighting them up. "Sam get the holy water and the rope out". He didn't miss the quirk of her lips as her eyes widened impossibly more with shock. Good, she should be worried.

Sam didn't move at first and Dean knew he was staring at him, could feel his eyes boring into him. It made Dean's skin tingle and his heart thump that little bit louder, knowing that he had all of Sam's attention but now wasn't the time, they had work to do.

Dean was just about to tell him to move his ass when that tingling sensation of being watched disappeared. The sound of the trunk opening followed soon after accompanied by the soft creak of old hinges protesting their usage. "Dean".

He cut off her pleading voice as he pushed down harder against her chest and for a split second he thought he saw a flicker of real panic in her eyes as she gasped for breath. Maybe he was on the right track then. Maybe she was a demon just playing with them, unnecessarily making their life that little bit harder just for fun.

As the trunk slammed shut Dean turned his head to watch Sam as he quickly walked back towards him. His face grim as he held out the bottle of holy water. Pulling his gun back Dean shoved it into the waistband of his jeans before snatching the bottle out of Sam's outstretched hand. "I'm a fan".

Slowly Dean turned his head back to Hope, not quite understanding what she meant. Hope was looking down at the floor, she looked ashamed, almost like she would rather be doing anything else then telling them this. "I'm sorry you're a what?"

Sighing Hope darted her eyes back up to his, a small glint of determination in them now, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "The books, the Supernatural ones". Dean jerked back, feeling dirty just being near someone that had been near those damned books. The idea that she knew enough about them to take them to Bobby's from those stupid books was enough to make Dean feel sick.

"You read those books?" Hope turned to look at Sam, her lips quirking up into a sad sort of half smile at his question. "Yer. I was um, I was working a case out in Olympia. I was looking up some stuff about tricksters in the library when some punk kid comes up to me and starts trying to hit one me. As soon as he realised I wasn't going to give him the time of day he started rambling on about these books. Said that if I liked stuff like this I should check out this series of books and it just so happened to be my lucky day because hay the library just happened to stock them. Curiosity got the better of me so I lifted the first one and took a look. You can imagine how surprised I was when it turned out to be spot on, well spot on about everything important anyway".

She hadn't taken her eyes off of Sam as she spoke and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't glad about that because this was getting a little too weird for him. A hunter that was a fan of a serious of books that showcased how shit the life of a hunter was, not really something he ever thought he would come across. "You stole a book from the library?"

Jerking his head round to stare at his brother Dean only just suppressed the urge to smack him upside the head because really what the fuck Sammy? All that and he picks up on the fact that she stole from a public library, not that she now had a vast amount of knowledge about them that Dean really wasn't comfortable with. She stole a car worth around thirty-two grand just a few days ago without a second thought, stealing a book probably didn't mean more to her then taking the soap out of a hotel room.

"Well yer. It's not like our kind can go around getting library cards is it". Sam scowled at her, the tone of her voice condescending as she stared at him like he was stupid. Before Dean could tell her to back off because no one spoke to Sam like that she was already talking again.

"Once I read the first one I needed to know more. It took me a few months but eventually I managed to get my hands on the whole set. Once I got to the apocalypse bit I knew they were for real so I started going back over them taking in as much info as I could. Those books have saved my ass more than once, not to mention the amount of time they have saved me on research".

Dean knew he was looking at her as if she had grown an extra head and it was spewing Enochian but it was kind of life shattering finding out the books that had been written about your life by a borderline alcoholic that were meant to become the next gospel of heaven were being treated the same way he would an ancient text from hundreds of years ago. He disserved a minute or two to freak out.

"So what you just carry a box of books around with you?" He really didn't know why he had asked, curiosity most probably but still a dumb question none the less and he regretted it the moment Hope turned to look at him, green eyes burning into his. "Don't be stupid".

And there it was, that condescending twang now aimed at him. Dean couldn't explain why it hurt so much to have her speak like that to him but he knew he didn't like it. "Do you know how many books are in the series? I scanned them all onto a disk".

"Huh". Sam was looking at her now with something between curiosity, wonder and suspicion. The two of them stared at each other for a long few minutes, as if they could figure the other one out just by looking at them. It was kind of strange to watch and Dean really didn't feel like spending the rest of the day watching them two mentally dissect each other.

"Not that this isn't fun and all that but how about we get this freak show on the road". Both of them slowly turned their heads to glare at him, both of them looking as pissed as the other. It was eerie the way they were both standing there tall and ridged as they glared at him, brows creased in almost the exactly the same way. It was bad enough when Sam looked at him like that but with two? Dean just wanted to punch something.

Taking a step forward Dean thrust the bottle of holy water towards Hope. "Drink it". For the first time since they had gotten out the car Hope smirked at him, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she raised an eyebrow at him. Dean glared at her, taking another step forward.

Chuckling to herself Hope pushed away from the car and gently pulled the bottle from his hand. Dean watched with bated breath as she unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to her still smirking lips. Winking at Dean she tipped the bottle back and took a deep swig of its contents.

Pulling the bottle back she scrunched up her nose slightly, her green eyes looking a few shades darker than before but that was it. She didn't double over gasping in pain, her eyes hadn't turned black. She looked just as smug and amused as she had before Dean had dragged her from the car. "See, not a demon. We done now?"

Frowning Dean snatched the bottle back and thrust it towards Sam as he pulled the rope from his brothers grasp. "Turn around". Hope was looking at him as he imagined he had been looking at her just moments ago. "I'm sorry, you what?"

Smiling sarcastically Dean grabbed her by the arm and forcibly spun her round, pushing her back up against the car. Groaning Hope let her head fall against the top of the car with a dull thud, her body going limp as Dean pulled her arms behind her back and started to secure her wrists. "This isn't necessary you know".

Turning to look at him over her shoulder Hope smiled sadly, her green eyes wide and pleading, so much like Sam's puppy dog ones. For a split second Dean thought about untying her bonds and apologising for being such a dick to her but a hard mental slap soon put an end to that.

They didn't know her, didn't know if she was telling the truth or not and Dean would be damned if he was going to put Sam in any unnecessary danger just because he had had a weak moment and given in to the spell she obviously had over him. Yanking the rope tighter Dean smirked at the small hiss of pain that escaped from between Hope's clenched teeth.

"Yes it is because I really don't trust you". Finishing the last knot Dean spun her back around and levelled her with his best don't fuck with me and I won't kill you stare. "And until we can prove you are who you say you are you ain't being left to roam around just so you can go and stab us in the back latter".

Grabbing her just above her elbow Dean yanked her forward and flung the back door open, shoving her inside. Bending down he kept one hand on the door and the other on the frame. Hope looked up at him from where she was sprawled across the back seat, glaring at him with cold green eyes.

Suppressing the shudder that wanted to rip through his body Dean smiled brightly at her, keeping his voice light and happy as he spoke. "Oh and if you ever touch my car again I will rip your fucking arms off". Winking at her Dean pulled himself back up and slammed the door on the young women's angry protests.

Wiping his hands on his jeans Dean turned back round to look at Sam who had remained shockingly quite throughout most of his 'discussion' with Hope, only to find him already staring at him with confused eyes. "What?"

Dean barked out the question as he stepped forward, plucking the bottle of Holy water out of Sam's hands. As soon as his hands were free they were shooting up in that universal sign of surrender as if Dean was going to rip his head off just for looking at him funny.

Frowning Dean spun back around and marched towards the trunk. This day was just getting to wired. "Not that I'm complaining but why the sudden change of opinion? I mean just this morning you were defending her now you got her tied up in that back of the car and your threatening to kill her".

Sighing Dean yanked the trunk open, quickly pulling the false bottom up and propping it open with the shotgun. "She touched my car". Dean mumbled half heartedly as he slot the bottle back into its place. They didn't have time for this. She was probably half way out of those knots by now and they still had a good few hours to go before they got to Bobby's. "Dean".

Sighing Dean turned his head to stare at Sam. He looked confused which was unusual but not totally alien on Sam's features but that wasn't what kept his attention. The five large dots on Sam's neck were ugly and angry looking, standing out horribly against his skin. Dean didn't even want to think about how hard the guy must have been squeezing for them to be that colour so soon.

They were nothing like the ones Dean gave him. He had been given permission to leave those marks on Sam's skin. They had been given as a sign of love and trust and Sam wore them proudly. These were ugly and tainted, signs of violence and hate and Dean hated them. He would have to get Sam a turtle neck or something because he wasn't going to spend the next few weeks looking at them.

Darting his eyes up Dean took in the circular bruise on Sam's forehead were the gun had been pushed against his skull. It didn't look as bad as Dean thought it would, didn't look as horrible as the other ones did and he supposed that was something. "How you doing Sammy?"

Sam frowned at the sudden change of conversation but didn't make any attempt to change it back witch Dean was way to grateful for. Instead he shrugged his shoulders, wincing slightly at the movement. "Fine I guess. I don't hurt as much as I thought I would. I mean the guy knocked me around quite a bit but I don't feel like it".

Dean nodded his head in agreement. Sam was right, Dean had taken a beating, the worst he could remember since Lucifer but he didn't feel like it. Come to think of it he was pretty sure his skull had cracked when it hit the wall but all he had now was a slight headache. Surly he should have passed out buy now due to bleeding on the brain.

Sam was moving forward, taking the few short strides until he was standing right in front of Dean still looking confused as hell. "And I know this is going to sound stupid but I'm sure the guy broke my wrist and I know he pretty much reduced my windpipes to dust but I feel fine Dean. No worse than when you and me spar".

Sam's eyes were wide as he stared down at Dean, looking every bit as desperate and determined as he sounded. Dean's eyes zeroed in on those five purple and black splodges on Sam's neck and he knew Sam shouldn't be talking, shouldn't be breathing because to get marks like that someone had to squeeze pretty tightly and do some serious damage along the way but what Sam was saying couldn't be true. "Bones don't just heal themselves Sam".

"I know that Dean but he..." "He couldn't have". Sam frowned looking every bit like an angry kicked puppy. Dean instantly felt bad because surly Sam would know what had been done to him but bones don't reset themselves and they defiantly cant heal in the space of a few hours. Only angels and demons can heal like that and they wouldn't have left the physical marks behind.

"Look, let's just wait until we get to Bobby's and then we can try and make some sense out of this crazy circus". Sam's only response was a small jerk of his head, the movement so small that if Dean had blinked he was sure he would have missed it.

Dean knew Sam was upset? Annoyed? Angry maybe? Who knew, maybe it was a mixture of all three but what he did know for certain was that Sam was going to spend the next three hours or however long it took to get to Bobby's sulking like a little bitch. He should apologise, he knew that but not because he was sorry because he really wasn't but because he just couldn't be dealing with one of Sam's world famous sulks right now. But before he could even open his mouth Sam was talking again, his eyes cast down so he could look into the car through the back window.

"What we going to do with her?" Sighing Dean laid the shotgun back down, letting the trunks false bottom fall back into place. Gently closing the trunk he turned to look at Sam, franticly trying not to look at the marks on his neck but they were practically screaming for his attention.

"We take her to Bobby's". That was obvious right? It was the only thing they could do right about now that didn't involve out right torturing her and Dean really didn't want to go down that road again. "Check her and her story out then you and Cas can go at her hammer and tongs".

Sam's eyes darted up to Dean's, surprise flashing behind them, flickering out just as quickly as it had appeared. Sam smiled grimly, nodding his head slightly. Dean frowned, Sam obviously had something to say so why keep it to himself. He never had before so why was he starting now. It was strange and freaky and Dean would call him out about it if he wasn't so grateful this conversation was over.

"Let's just get there first then see how things go". Straightening his slumped posture Sam gave a curt nod before he was spinning on his heels and stalking round the car to the passenger's side door. Dean stood as still as he could, staring at the trees in the field next to them as he listened to the door open with a soft creak, the car rocking slightly as Sam slid his large frame inside, using those short moments to regain some of his quickly dwindling calm.

It wasn't until the door closed with a loud click that Dean started to move, taking a deep breath before he yanked his own door open. Slipping into the chair Dean subconsciously ran his hands up the steering wheel as if to sooth some imagined injury she might have sustained from having another person driving her. Yanking the door closed he turned the keys that Hope had left in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the sound reverberating through his bones and rattling along his jaw.

Bringing his hand up to readjust the rear view mirror Dean caught a glimpse of Hope. She had pulled herself up and was now sitting in the middle of the backseat. Her face was blank, devoid of any emotion, her lips set in a thin line and her green eyes so dark they looked almost black.

Once their eyes met Dan found it hard to look away, seemingly trapped in those dark pools. The longer he stared at her the more he started to wonder why she was here, why had she even bothered to save their lives and take them someplace where she thought they would be safe. It was going way above the norm even if she was a fan of those damned books.

Sighing Hope turned her head away, braking whatever spell that had kept Dean in place. Scowling Dean let his hand fall away from the mirror, his eyes following the movement. This just wasn't his day. Without a word Dean pulled back out onto the road, his mind running in circles as he tried not to think about the women in the back, tried not to look at her every few minutes or so.

Sam sat still next to him, staring out the window as the scenery flashed by. It was the most awkward, uncomfortable car journey Dean had been through since Sam had let Lucifer out of his cage and considering the shit they had been through since then that was kind of impressive. "The girls, what happened to them?"

Sam hadn't even bothered to turn around as he spoke, still gazing out the window as if nothing had happened. Darting his eyes back up to the rear view mirror Dean watched as Hope sank back into the seat a small smile on her lips and a genuine look of sadness about her, well Dean thought it was genuine.

As she spoke Hope stared at the back of Sam's head, her voice low and calm just like his had been when he asked the question. "There was three still alive. They were banged up pretty bad, one of them even needed the hospital. After I got you two out and torched the bodies I busted their cell open and called the cops. We were half way out of the city before the cops even got there. The last time I checked the girls were all fine and they didn't have no leads on who killed their captors".

The car fell into an uneasy silence as the three of them lost themselves in their own thoughts. Hope didn't attempt to get out of her bonds, didn't even try to get them to let her go, just scowled blankly down at her knees. Sam continued to stare out the window, so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even complain when Dean slipped Blue Oyster Cult into the cassette player, chucking the Bon Jovi tape into the back.

Dean continued to watch the road disappear under them, occasionally stealing glances at the young women behind him who was responsible for their current situation. The next three hours were going to seem like a life time, a horrible, awkward, uncomfortable one but a life time none the less and hay Dean's life almost always felt like that any way so no big deal really.

Dean didn't bother to turn the heating down, why not make it uncomfortably hot in the car as well, it was going to be a shit journey either way. Cursing gently to himself Dean wished he had had to foresight to take a quick swig out of the bottle of Jack's that he kept shoved behind the holy water because if they were going to make it to Bobby's he was going to need a stiff drink or he was going to end up shooting someone and not necessarily himself either.


	11. I Will Never Lie To You

A/N: So another one again, sorry it took so long it's been one of those months. As always only Hope belongs to me. I'm sorry if you spot any mistakes, my heater is broken so my fingers are pretty numb right about now. Please, please review because I would love to know what you think. I hope you are having a good day, night or whatever other time of the day you are reading this. All the best and thanks for sticking with me.

**I Will Never Lie To You Unless You Deserve It**

By the time they got to Bobby's the sun was just starting to set, the sky sub-coming to that golden red tinge as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Bobby was waiting for them on his porch, shotgun in hand and aimed at the car, scowling like he always did when they showed up uninvited dragging whatever problem behind them, except this time they were quite literally bringing their problem to him.

Slamming the Impala door shut Sam glanced behind him, watching Dean silently shut his own door before he moved to the back, his expression just as grim as it had been all those hours ago as he shoved Hope into the car. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, a look that Sam had become too familiar with over the years.

Sighing Sam turned back round and started towards the old house, keeping his eyes cast down so he wouldn't have to see the disapproving glint in Bobby's eyes as Dean pulled a bound Hope out the back of the Impala. The car journey had been one of the most uncomfortable car journeys of his life and he had been in some pretty long and uncomfortable journeys in his life, most of them involving his dad.

In a few quick strides Sam was up the rickety steps and standing next to Bobby on the porch. Finally he looked up, his eyes locking on the older man as he stared down the barrel of his gun, watching intently as Dean dragged Hope round the side of the car and towards them.

"Hay Bobby". Sam's voice sounded small even to him, wary even and that in its self was kind of strange. Two days ago he would have been all for tying Hope up and interrogating her till she couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been threatening her with pain and making promises to release her if she only told them what she knew but now, now he felt like the biggest dick around because this girl had saved their lives and the only thanks they had given her was to threaten her life and treat her like the scum of the earth. They had no proof that she wasn't exactly what she said she was, but at the same time they had no proof that she was that person.

"Sam". Bobby sounded grave, suspicious and he had every right to be. Neither him or Dean knew exactly what they were dumping on him. For all they knew it could be a blood thirsty, god like being or a fellow hunter who was suffering the negative consequences of helping a Winchester.

If it did turn out to be the latter - which seemed to be becoming the more likely option with every second Sam spent with her - then Sam was going to have some major apologising to do because Dean would never say sorry to anyone who wasn't himself, Cas or Bobby and he only ever did that when he really messed up.

Turning to look at his brother and the young women of questionable origins Sam watched as they made their way up the steps, Dean holding her tightly by the elbow but thankfully he didn't have his gun out, well not this time anyway. Hope was smiling brightly, her eyes alight with excitement. She was practically buzzing with it as she bounced up the stairs, Dean pretty much being dragged behind her.

Once they made it up to the porch Dean look every bit like he wanted to tell Hope to calm the fuck down or strangle her, whichever one came first. Bobby lowered his gun eyeing up Hope as if he would be able to tell what she was just from looking at her. Dean smiled slight, nodding his head in way of greeting. "Hay Bobb..."

Hope cut across Dean, shoving him back slightly as she shouldered her way in front of him so she was directly in Bobby's line of sight. "Bobby Singer". Hope breathed his name, sounding very much like a teenage girl meeting the latest Hollywood heartthrob, she even looked like she might faint. It was kind of disturbing really, with a hint of vomit induce nauseas thrown in for good measure.

Bobby shot Sam a disbelieving look and all Sam could do was shrug his shoulders in answer. He had spent the whole ride here with her asking questions that were just on the edge of to personal. Like when she had almost caused Dean to crash the car when she asked if he had really had the audacity to think he was that good in the sack to take an angels virginity. Dean had spun round, mouth hanging open as he struggled to form whole words whilst Sam dissolved into a fit of laughter.

That all ended quickly though when she asked about Madison and things had just got more uncomfortable after that. He supposed it didn't help that he had told her to shut the hell up but he really didn't want to think about his shit track record with women and how they all seemed to end up dead one way or another.

"I am a_ huge_ fan. Your just...your kind of awesome. I would shake your hand but mine are otherwise preoccupied". Smiling wide and far to charmingly Hope turned so he could see her hands, wiggling her fingers. Turning back round she tilted her head back to look at Dean, still smiling like they were all friends and that Dean hadn't just been threatening to torture her as they drove up the driveway.

"We would have been here sooner but _someone_ had to stop every time they thought of something else I could be". Dean huffed out his annoyance, shoving against Hope's shoulder causing her to rock forward slightly on the balls of her feet. Laughing gently as if Dean had told her a joke Hope pulled her head back up to smile sweetly at Bobby. She seemed so calm and collected that Sam was seriously starting to suspect she was on something because no one should be this okay with the fact that she was mostly likely about to be tortured for information.

"Right. We better get inside and try and sort out this mess you two idjits have gotten into now". Bobby turned sharply, yanking the door open and disappearing back inside. Laughing Hope spun around, waggling her eyebrows at Dean as she started to walk backwards towards the door, smiling brightly the whole time. Growling Dean stalked forwards grabbing her by the arm and forcibly spinning her around as he dragged her through the still open door.

Sam stood unmoving on the porch, listening to the world around him and the faint sound of Dean talking to Bobby as he stared unseeingly at the door. What if he had gotten it all wrong? What if she was simply a hunter, just like them?

She seemed so young, still full of that ignorant confidence that most hunters had when they first started out. She couldn't have been in the game that long, couldn't have seen any of the real bad stuff yet that would give normal people nightmares and strip her of that childish delusion that the world wasn't all that bad.

He felt sorry for her. Sorry that she had ended up becoming this instead of being a normal person who's only worries were what college she should be applying to or how much the latest Justin Bieber cd cost. When she got to Bobby's age she would be telling people that she survived the apocalypse when she should be telling her grandkids that she had been there when the first black president was elected.

But despite all that Sam didn't trust her, not completely any way. There was just something about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on that made him suspicious of her, made it impossible for him to believe everything she was telling them and wasn't that a sad thought.

He could remember a time when he had had blind faith in everyone and everything, when he trusted stupidly. When he saw the good in everyone and if a pretty girl had told him she was a fan he would have been charmed and slightly embarrassed but that would have been it. He would never have suspected her to be a monster, a murderer. He had lost that childish naivety somewhere along the line and though he was a better man for it, a better hunter it didn't change the fact that he missed it, missed that feeling he used to get when his faith in people had worked out for the better.

Sighing Sam turned and slowly made his way inside, pulling the door closed behind him. They were all in the study, he could hear their muffled voices getting louder the closer he got. As he rounded the corner he got a good look into the room and the occupants inside. Wow Dean wasn't wasting any time getting down to business.

Hope was now seated on an old looking hardback chair in the middle of the room, her hands tied tightly to the arms of the chair. Dean was leaning casually against the doorway into the kitchen watching Hope with cold calculating eyes as Bobby rummaged through his desk.

Hope was still beaming up at Dean, smiling brightly like this was the best day of her life and she was having the most fun imaginable. Sam really hoped they were wrong, that he had been wrong because it was kind of nice to see a hunter that was still that happy, that hadn't been totally fucked up by all the horrific shit they had seen but he supposed that was yet to come.

As soon as he stepped into the room Dean turned to look at him, all his anger and suspicion just melting away until he was smiling softly up at Sam. Sam couldn't help but smile back as he tried to lean as casually as he could against the doorframe, hands shoved beep into his trouser pockets. He desperately needed to change out of these clothes because really, he looked like a high class hooker and he really didn't need Dean getting ideas. Not to mention he was covered in a considerable amount of blood.

Bobby slowly turned back round, leaning against his desk, pad and pen at the ready. Readjusting his hat Bobby nodded his head at Dean giving him the go ahead to start interrogating Hope again. Sam visibly tensed as Dean straightened up slightly, levelling Hope with a hard stare, his green eyes dark and dangerous. "Who are you?"

Hope tipped her head to the side slightly, looking at Dean as if he was something new and confusing. The action was so similar to Cas that Sam instantly jumped to the obvious conclusion. She could be just another douche bag angel screwing around with their lives for a bit of fun, a little payback for messing up their precious apocalypse. It took Sam embarrassingly long to remember that Dean had already tried that one, angel banishing sigils and all.

Just as quickly as all her emotions seemed to change Hope snapped her head back up and smiled brightly, her amusement evident in her eyes and the tone of her voice. "My name is Hope Wesson. I'm twenty-six years old and was born in 1985 just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. My parents are Jonathan and Marie Wesson. I am a only child. My favourite colour is blue. I like strawberries. I'm a Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky wo..."

"Okay we get it". Hope smirked knowingly at Dean as he cut her off with his angry words, causing him to glare at her even more. Sam made a mental note to ask him about it later, when it was just the two of them and there were no annoying little girls around to wind either of them up and no Bobby watching them with his suspicious all-knowing eyes.

"You said your parents _were _hunters, what are they now?" Hope turned to look at Sam, all amusement draining from her as her smile fell. Sam's eyes locked with her cold green ones and instantly he felt trapped in her gaze, unable to look away even if he wanted to. "Dead".

That one word made Sam's blood go cold. There it was that one thing, that one life altering act that had sent her stumbling down the path of a hunter. "How?" Hope turned back to look at Dean as he spoke, releasing Sam from the strange hold she had had over him but her cold eyes didn't stay on him long, instead falling to the floor. She shrugged as best as could considering she was tied to a chair.

"Demons". Of course it was, it was always demons. She looked so small and sad as she shrunk back into the chair, seemingly collapsing in on herself. All trace of the cocky, smug, youthful girl was gone, replaced instead with sadness, regret and self hatred. She looked years older somehow, like she had already seen a lifetime of hurt, had had to do things that no normal person would have been able to stomach and Sam could relate to that.

Sam felt the urge to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that she was safe now. He didn't move from the doorway though, to shocked at the sudden need to comfort this stranger to do anything but stare at her with wide eyes, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest that he was surprised no one else could hear it.

Sighing Hope tipped her head back so it was resting on the back of the chair, looking up at the devils trap that was painted on the ceiling above her. "I was young, too young to really understand what was going on. All I knew was that something bad had come into our lives and taken my family away from me. It wasn't until a few years later that I found out exactly what it was that had killed them. I never looked back after that".

The room fell into a defining silence, the absence of sound so noticeable that it seemed to consume everything. Everyone was staring at Hope, unmoving as if the world around them would shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces if they did.

Sam could feel his pity for this girl swelling inside of him, crashing over him like a tidal wave. Sure he had had a rough start to life, his mum had been killed because of him, before he even had a change to remember her. His dad had become a crazed monster hunter who loved to drink, which meant him and Dean had been dragged around the states never staying in one place long enough to become more than a distant memory. His family had been broken in more ways than one but at least he had had Dean, had had his farther though he would never have admitted to that last one at the time.

He had had some resemblance of a family but she had had all that ripped away from her. She had been left alone in the world, unable to do anything to stop the horror around her. He had been too young to remember anything that had happened that night, to even know what had been going on but Hope had been old enough to know what was going on yet young enough to not be able to stop it. It was no wonder she had become a hunter, it probably seemed like the only option to her,

"You getting this all down Mr Singer or would you like me to repeat it for you?" And just like that the morbid atmosphere disappeared. Bobby huffed as he threw the pad and pen back onto the desk. Dean shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes darting over to the window and Sam knew he was trying to think of something to ask her next and trying not to dwell on the shitty hand life had dealt her.

Hope rolled her head forward, her bangs falling in front of her eyes. She smiled sadly at Sam, a small quirk of her lips, her deep green eyes glistening with unshed tears and something inside Sam just broke. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pushing away from the doorframe and stalking across the room, slipping his pocket knife out as he went.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him, boring into his flesh like red hot pokers as he swooped down next to her and slipped the knife under the rope wrapped around her right wrist. "What the hell Sam!" Sam ignored Dean's outraged cry, quickly moving to her other side and cutting her free. He only just managed to slip the knife back into his pocket before Dean was on him.

Dean grabbed his shoulder tightly and yanked him back, away from a wide eyed Hope who was looking at him as if he was a crazy axe waving murderer. Dean spun him around, greeting him with the same sort of look, except Dean's lips were pressed into a thin line where's Hope's mouth had been hanging open slightly in shock.

"Are you crazy?" Dean's angry whisper reverberated around Sam's head, rattling around his skull like lose change in the Impala's ashtray. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was finally starting to lose it after all the shit he had been through but he had seen something in Hope that had reminded him to much of his teenage self, his emotion locked up inside as he tried to be a good little solder for his dad until one day he just cracked.

She hid it behind all that false bravado, keeping it hidden behind charming smiles and smartass remarks. On second thought she was more like Dean than him. This revelation left Sam shocked, surprised that Dean was being so hostile with her. They were so alike they would probably get on like a house on fire, but maybe that's why he was treating her the way he was. Maybe it was because he could see himself in her that had him changing his tune so drastically.

Dean sighed when Sam failed to answer him and was already moving away towards Hope when Sam found his voice once more. "Look at her Dean. I mean_ really_ look at her". Dean turned his head to stare at the young women who hadn't moved from the chair. Hope had moved closer to the edge of the chair, absentmindedly rubbing at her red wrists as she glared at the floor in confusion. "What if we are going about this all the wrong way?"

Dean was glaring at Hope now, his dark eyes boring into her as if he could burn a hole right through her. Sam could tell she knew she was being watched, she had gone ridged in her seat, his fingers stilling on her wrist. She looked tensed, ready to spring into action the moment anyone should do anything to harm her. "What if we just asked Dean".

Dean's nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, Sam could feel his hot breath against his neck causing his skin to tingle. Nibbling the inside of his lips Sam took a deep breath before he ploughed on with his desperate little plea. "She saved our lives, there has to be a reason for that and if we just asked instead of threatening to kill her every time she opened her mouth maybe we would get somewhere".

Dean glared at Hope for a good few minutes and Sam stared pleadingly at his brother the whole time. He knew he could get the information from Hope if Dean just gave him the chance to do things his way for once. He wouldn't have to raise his voice or make idle threats, he could get it all from just smiling his understanding little half smirk and flashing her his puppy dog eyes. It was a tried and tested method and it hadn't failed him yet.

Groaning Dean's shoulders deflated, his whole posture slumping as his frown softened. "Fine but if she drains you dry it's your own fault". Huffing Dean stormed back to the kitchen, slamming the doors shut behind him as he mumbled to himself about stupid little brothers.

Smiling gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manure Sam made his way back towards Hope, only just noticing that Bobby was nowhere to be seen. Sinking down onto his hunches Sam gazed up at Hope, smiling softly still as he tried not to think about how stupid he was being. Just because she hadn't done anything yet that would sagest that she was a killer didn't mean she wasn't, she could just be biding her time for all he knew, waiting for him to do something stupid like sink to the floor in front of her complete defenceless. "Hay..."

"Thank you". Hope's quite voice cut across whatever it was he was going to say, those two worlds making any thought about questioning her disappear. She sounded so small, so earnest that Sam was shocked, not totally convinced he had actually heard her. Her green eyes went impossibly wide as she looked down at him a tangled mix of surprise, pleading and false naivety.

He felt trapped, unable to move from her gaze and compelled to do anything she asked of him all at once. It was a foreign feeling but one he had heard Dean speak of often enough to know what was happening. Was this how people felt when he used his puppy dog eyes on them?

Mentally slapping himself hard, several times, Sam managed to kick himself back into gear, back to the here and now. "I should be the one thanking you, you did save my after all". She smiled softly down at him, her eyes full of something that Sam couldn't quite make out, something along the lines of regret and hope but he couldn't understand why she would be feeling them. Though considering the way they had been treating her since they woke up he supposed she could be regretting her choice to save them.

"Think nothing of it". Sam laughed gently, amazed at how casually she brushed of the fact, as if she did that sort of thing every day. Dropping his head down slightly so he could look up at her through his lashes, his eyes landed on her hands as she continued to absentmindedly rub her thumbs over her rope burned wrists.

They were as smooth and as unmarked as a small child's, no sign of a hunters life on them, but that couldn't be right. Sam had been so sure he had seen a vampire clawing at them and he didn't know why this hadn't occurred to him before, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice much more than Dean's ever growing anger. He was positive that the vampire had reduced her hands to noting more than scraps, ripping the skin from the bone in his attempt to get free yet there wasn't so much as a scratch or even a bruise on her tanned hands.

Frowning slightly Sam ran back through the last ten hours , trying to re-envision the scene but everything from the warehouse was foggy, like the details had been covered in a cloud of smoke. Almost like something had tried to wipe the whole thing from his mind and had only left him the barest of details, just enough to know he had been there and the basics of what had happened. "You think me a monster".

Sam's head snapped up at Hope's whispered words, his eyes wide in shock. Everything he had been planning to ask vanished from his mind, chased away by the one thought that this was it. Hope smiled sweetly at him, a knowing glint in her eyes and suddenly Sam found himself stuttering for an explanation, anything but the real reason they were doing this to her. "I...we don't...it's not like..."

"It's okay. I understand, you know considering everything you have been through. Strangers that turn up randomly almost always tend to be the ones that screw you over, though sometimes that person is closer to home than you would like".

Sam knelt there, unmoving and unsure of what to do now. Yes they suspected her, it was kind of hard not to, but her being a stranger wasn't the only reason they didn't trust her. Things just didn't add up and somehow all of it seemed to revolve around her, had all started when she first showed up.

"It's just a precaution". Sam went with the soft and calm voice he usually saved for questioning witnesses, the one Dean hated so much, figuring that it was probably his safest bet right about now. Slowly he slid his right hand off the arm of the chair where he had placed it to help balance his weight and placed it gently on hers, stilling the small movements of her thumb as she moved it in small circles over her pulse.

Her skin was burning hot under his hand, radiating heat like a small furnace. She was to warm, like she was burning up. He could already feel his palm starting to sweat, the heat becoming uncomfortable quickly. Was she sick? Had he and Dean been so caught up in their own thoughts and pointless arguments to notice she was ill? But she looked fine, healthy. Sam was pretty sure he hadn't seen anyone look like they were in that good of health for a good few years, but something had to be wrong, normal people just don't run that hot.

"You are a bad liar Sam Winchester". Frowning at her Sam yanked his hand back off of hers, subconsciously rubbing his palm against his thigh. Hope laughed gently, smiling down at him with a sort of fondness and truth be told Sam wasn't so sure if he liked that look or not. "It is a good thing. I didn't mean it as an insult".

Still frowning slightly Sam nodded his head in understanding, though he knew he was a damned good liar, was the world's leading expert on it if you didn't include demons or angels. Shifting slightly Sam sighed in discomfort. His knees were starting to hurt, protesting against being bent for such a long period of time. He really needed to stand up soon or his knees were going to seize up and he would be stuck like this.

Sighing he placed his hands back on the arms of the chair, the hard wood digging into his palms as he began to push himself up, his knees cracking as he stretched his legs. Hope never took her eyes of his as he rose to his full height, towering over her but he didn't feel big, didn't feel he had an advantage over her. If anything he felt more vulnerable, more exposed to her charming smiles, soft words and sparkling eyes.

"There is nothing else for me to tell you that would convince you of who I am, so why bother Sam. Unless you want me to tell you every last detail of my life, I could always start with how I lost my virginity?" all the tension he had been feeling since he had woken up in the back of the Impala and realised what was going on just seemed to melt away as she smiled suggestively up at him, wiggling her eyebrow almost comically.

Smiling Sam shook his head in slight disbelief. "No, I think I'm good without that". Hope smiled wide at him flashing her white teeth, eyes alight with mischief. It made Sam nervous. Dean had a look almost exactly like that and it only ever showed when Sam was about to be on the end of one of his annoying pranks that normally left Sam looking if not feeling a little worse for wear. "You sure because it was awesome".

Chuckling nervously Sam turned and started to make his way into the kitchen were Dean and presumably Bobby were waiting for him. Quickly he pulled the doors open slightly, slipping through the gap, Hope still talking as if Sam had said nothing against knowing that sort of thing about her. "We were in this abandoned church, dead of night, stars shinning above. You know real romantic crap. The guy was way older than me and had these stunning blue eyes and a massive di..."

Sam quickly slammed the door shut, cutting off whatever Hope had been about to say. He could hear her laughter through the thick wood, could picture her lounging back in the chair, her head thrown back, her long hair cascading down the back of the chair, her eyes tightly shut as she laughed full heartedly. A true picture of happiness.

Smiling Sam turned to face the other occupants of the room only to find them both staring at him as if his eyes had turned into the deep black pools that showed him for the monster he really was. Instantly his smile fell. He felt like someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water over his head then slapped him round the face.

Bobby was the first to move, shaking his head slightly as he turned back to the fridge. Dean on the other hand continued to glare at him, waiting for him to explain himself but for the life of him Sam couldn't force the words out. He didn't completely trust Hope but he wasn't so sure now that she was the thing they were hunting. It seemed him and Dean had done a complete one-eighty on each other without even realising it.

Sam watched as Dean slowly opened his mouth, his lips beginning to form words that would condemn the young women in the next room. Sam could already hear his rough angry voice reverberating around his skull, the sound of it ingrained into his memory over the years. Before Dean could get the words out though Sam found his voice, blurting out the words before he could really think about what he was saying.

"I think she's telling the truth". Dean's mouth snapped shut, his eyes wide with shock before they narrowed and his anger started to show. He looked thunderous and Sam instantly wanted to take it back. He had no idea why he had said that, didn't even know where those six little words had come from because he didn't think she was telling them the truth, well not the whole truth anyway. Hope was definitely keeping something from them, he knew that but he had said it anyway.

It had just kind of rushed out because he knew if he didn't say something Dean would be back in there and things would get far to physical way to quickly because she just seemed to rub him the wrong way, and if they did turn out to be wrong then Dean would never forgive himself. And Sam couldn't, wouldn't let Dean do that to himself, not if he could prevent it.

Sam could see that Dean was trying not to yell at him, that little vein pulsing on his temple but Sam knew he wouldn't be able to hold his anger in for much longer, it was the one emotion he seemed to be unable to control. Franticly he tried to think of something that he could do that wouldn't get him punched or alert Bobby to how fucked up their relationship had become, but just as Dean was about to start yelling at him Bobby saved his ass like he had done a thousand times before.

"Now that's sorted you two idjits getting back to work or what". Slamming the fridge door closed Bobby pushed his way between them and made his way over to the old rickety dining table. Sam turned slightly to watch the older man as he grabbed a newspaper of the top of the stupidly large stack of newspapers and print outs. Bobby spun back around, surprisingly well balanced for a man of his age and slapped the paper against Dean's chest causing him to let out a small grunt.

Quickly Dean's hands shot up to grab the paper, flipping it over so he could scan over whatever Bobby had highlighted. As his eyes darted across the page Dean's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Looking up Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Bobby his standard 'what the fuck' look. "Cattle mutilations. In Nebraska. Really Bobby?"

Bobby levelled Dean with a hard, stern stare and Sam could physically see his brother back down. Could see it in the way his eyes softened and dropped down slightly, in the way his ridged posture deflated a little. Bobby was probably the only person left alive that Dean would never really argue with, he respected the guy way too much. Respected him just as much as he had their farther.

Sighing Sam held his hand out gesturing for the paper as he stubbornly refused to get angry at Dean and his pathological need to follow someone's orders but never Sam's. Dean scowled at him, slapping him hard in the chest with the paper. So Dean was still mad at him then, always good to know.

Huffing out an annoyed breath Sam yanked the paper from Dean's grasp and flipped it over so he could see the article. Bobby had drawn around it with a thick read pen and underlined certain words he seemed to think were important. It reminded Sam of homework and the stupidly long essays he had used to write for school, not that his work had ever had that much red pen on it.

Taking a deep breath Sam started to scan over the article, taking in as much information as he could. It seemed that over the last week or so in and around the small town of Harrison cattle had been found with their stomachs sliced open and their intestines missing. The local police had absolutely no leads and were desperate for any member of the public had information on the perpetrators to come forward as soon as possible.

Chewing on the inside of his lip Sam looked up at Dean before darting his eyes over to Bobby, trying to think up an answer to the question he knew was coming. "So, what we looking at?" And there it was, Dean's rough voice cutting through the silence and Sam instantly darted his eyes back to him, an answer already on the tip of his tongue.

"Witch maybe". Looking at his brother questioningly briefly before glancing back down at the paper. It seemed to be their sort of thing. They used animal innards and blood for a whole host of spells and rituals but to hell if Sam knew why they would need so many cow guts. "That the case out in Harrison?"

All heads snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as they landed on Hope who was casually leaning against the door frame, watching them with a wary interest. Sam hadn't even noticed she was there, didn't even hear her open the door and let herself in. Who knew how long she had been standing there for, watching them, analysing them as they fought and worked. It was surprisingly unnerving to know he had missed something so important.

"What of it?" There Dean went again, sounding like an unhealthy mix between suspicion and anger. Hope raised an eyebrow at Dean and his outburst before she pushed away from the door frame and made her way into the room.

Hope gracefully slipped between them, never once touching them as she made her way over to the table, smiling sweetly up at Sam as she passed him. Quickly she started to rummage through the pile of newspapers, brows furrowed in consideration as she searched. "Well if it is then you are wasting your time. It's just kids being bored and looking for something to do. It's a few weeks away from Halloween so why not fake some satanic witchcraft stuff to freak out the yokels. I mean who hasn't done that before". Turning to look over her shoulder Hope smiled brightly, winking at them before she turned back to the papers.

Dean looked murderous, that little vein in his forehead pulsing as he clenched his jaw. He was just about to yell at her, no doubt for being so flippant and suggesting that they terrorized innocent people for no reason other than for shits and giggles but Hope got there first, knocking the top few papers out of the way with a small flick of her wrist so she could get to one half way down the stack.

"Where you need to be heading is Iowa. The town of Lenox has had several disappearances in the last two day, which just so you know there happened to be a full moon _and_ about this time last month they found the body of the local librarian with her heart ripped out so I'm thinking werewolf". Making a small noise of triumph she spun around, a paper clasped tightly in her hands.

In one quick move she was spinning around and coming to stand next to Sam. She held the paper out to Dean looking at him with bright eyes and a devious smile, daring him to prove her wrong. And just like Sam knew he would Dean took her up on the challenge, snatching the paper from her hands and glaring down at the article.

Sam watched his brother, holding his breath in anticipation as Dean skimmed over the page, his anger fading from his eyes with every sweep they made over the words. Hope gently nudged Sam in the side with her elbow and Sam reluctantly tore his eyes away from Dean to look down at her.

She was bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet, smile wide and eyes just as bright. She looked like a little puppy who had been promised a juicy bone and a good long walk and Sam had to fight the urge to bring his hand up and ruffle her hair. Instead he smiled gently down at her, trying to will her to calm down but all it seemed to do was make her bounce even more, looking up at him with such a genuine look of excitement and happiness that Sam couldn't help but smile widely down at her, some of her excitement rubbing off on him.

He couldn't understand why she was so happy they were looking into a case she had found, he assumed it was to do with the fact that they were her two most favourite fictional characters. Her idols as she had called them on one of the many times they had stopped to poke and prod at her. Well that and the fact that it seemed Dean was considering thinking about taking on a case she had found, that she had done all the leg work on.

Dean huffed and shoved the paper at Sam. Quickly he snapped his head round, fumbling for the paper as he realized that he had been staring at Hope the whole time Dean had been reading. Dean was glaring at him again and Sam had the good sense to look slightly embarrassed and apologetic. He really didn't need to make Dean angrier than he already was. "How you know that the cow stuff is just kids?"

Dean turned to level Hope with a hard stare and instantly she stopped with the excited bouncing, her smile falling. Something in her eyes shifted and Sam found himself looking down at the young women he had caught a glimpse of before. She looked harder, older, every part the monster hunter she was claiming to be.

"I looked into it, caught the little shits going at it. Cow tipping gone bad they called it. I sent the video evidence to the local boys in blue about two days ago so it should all be sorted by now". Dean stared down at her the whole time she was talking, some of his anger fading. "Huh".

Dean nodded once before he pushed past her, purposely slamming into her shoulder. It didn't seem to faze her though as she smiled triumphantly, looking every bit like the little puppy who had just been called a good little girl. He could practically see her tail wagging.

"Sammy go check the car". Sam stood in stunned silence, staring at his brother in disbelief. He had just been threatening to kill her no more than twenty minutes ago and now they were going to follow a lead she had given them, just trusting that she wouldn't be sending them into a trap. This day was getting a little bizarre even for him, it didn't help that he felt like he was getting whiplash from Dean constantly changing his mind every five seconds.

Nodding his head Sam turned to head out the room, mentally running through supplies they were going to need. He thought they had enough silver bullets but he wasn't one hundred percent sure, they might need to borrow some off Bobby. "Where do you think you are going?"

At Dean's low, threatening voice Sam froze. He was sure Dean had just told him to go and make sure they were ready to hunt a werewolf, not in so many words but that was what he had meant, right? Confused Sam slowly turned round to ask Dean what the hell he was playing at only to find him staring at Hope who had taken a few steps forward as if to follow him.

She was staring at Dean with wide confused eyes, almost like she couldn't quite understand what he had said. "I was going to check my bags to make sure I had everything I would need before we left". Her voice was low and cautious, staring at Dean as if the slightest move would cause him to physically lash out at her.

Instead Dean smiled at her, the one he normally used when monsters were getting a bit too smug for their own good. He hated that smile, wanted to claw it off his brothers full lips. "I don't think so princes". Hope's eyes opened almost comically wide, her mouth falling open in shocked amazement.

Moving forward slightly Dean continued to smile at her, tilting his head back slightly so he could look her in the eyes, but despite the height difference he still managed to look ten times bigger than her. "You see I meant what I said. I really don't trust you and I will be damned if I'm going to let you tag along when for all we know your setting us up to die". Dean's smile fell as he spoke, his voice taking on a slight edge.

"You, little girl are staying right here where we can keep an eye on you and when we get the evidence that you are who you say you are and only then can you leave". Dean raised an eyebrow at her in challenge but when all she did was continue to stare at him he let out a huff of amusement before shoving past her and heading towards the door.

Sam stood frozen to the spot unable to take his eyes of Hope, watching closely for any sign of protest but she was still staring slack jawed at the space were Dean had just been. "You comin' Sam?" Sam snapped his head round to look at Dean who was now standing in the doorway looking at him expectantly.

Dumbly Sam nodded taking one last glance behind him at Hope, waiting for the other shoe to drop. As he stared at her Hope snapped her mouth shut, her eyes narrowing as they got darker. Sam could feel the anger rolling off of her and all of a sudden he wanted to shove Dean from the room, separating the two before an actual fight could take place. He didn't think Bobby would appreciate them messing up his kitchen. He didn't think Bobby would appreciate being volunteered to baby sit the could be hunter either, he was sure to give Dean hell for it latter.

Looking absolutely thunderous Hope spun around and Sam realised he had just wasted his opportunity to get Dean out of the house by thinking about getting him out of the house. "THE HELL I WILL!" Dean stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face the angry women. He looked just as pissed as she did and Sam knew his ears would be ringing latter from the volume of their screaming match. "This is my case, my lead and you _will not_ muscle me out with your macho crap!"

Sneering Dean took a threatening step forward, raising his hand up. For a second Sam thought he was going to hit her, back hand her across the face just to get her to shut up. Panic started to bubble away inside of him as he readied himself to dart forward and pull Dean off the girl and out of the house before either of them could do something they would regret.

Sam sighed in relief when all Dean did was point a finger at her, though his relief was short lived because Dean still looked like he wanted to strangle her. "You are staying here one way or another, even if I have to tie back to the chair. Now back the fuck off lady". Dean's voice was low and dangerous, the sound holding so much weight behind it that it felt like a quick jab in the heart. Sam hadn't heard that tone of voice in a long time, Dean must be really angry then.

They were glaring at each other, trying to stare the other down. Franticly Sam looked at Bobby, hoping he had some sort of solution to this but he was giving them the same sort of look he normally gave him and Dean when they were fighting, like they were idiots and didn't have a fucking clue what was really going on.

Dejected and slightly worried Sam turned back to Dean and Hope, seriously thinking about getting a bucket of water and chucking it over them. But Sam was saved from having to endure Dean's wrath when Hope made an indignant noise before storming past them and heading out into the hallway. Dean spun around watching her go with the same angry glare. "Where the hell do you think you are going?"

The only thing missing from Dean's angry cry was young man at the end, well young lady in this case and then he would sound exactly how their dad had when him and Sam used to fight, Sam always storming out before he lashed out and made things ten times worse. It was a scary thought to think of Dean as anything like their dad and Dean would bitch slap him back into last month if he ever brought it up but that didn't change the fact that Dean really did sound like dad, even had the same angry, twitching jaw thing going on as well.

Briefly Sam wondered if this was how Dean had used to feel when he watched him and dad going at it, helpless to do anything but watch as the two of them tore into each other like rabid dogs. Sam really didn't like the feeling, it was making his fingers twitch with the need to _do_ something.

Hope flung her hair over her shoulder as she snapped her head sharply to the side so she could glare angrily at Dean over her shoulder. "To go get my stuff dumb ass". Yep definite how him and dad had used to fight. Their fights always ended with Sam storming out of the room whenever he had that luxury, silently fuming. Then like most teenage boys he would turn his anger on the nearest person and unfortunately that normally meant Dean.

He would scream and yell, stamp his feet like a spoilt brat and yell at Dean for letting dad boss him around like he did. They all ended with Dean being pissed at him as well and in the end they all ended up angry at each other. But unlike Hope, Sam would never of had the balls to call his dad a dumb ass, well not to his face anyway.

Hope spun round the door and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her, a loud bang of wood on wood echoing around the now quite house. Dean was still visibly fuming, the vain in his forehead pulsing as he clenched his jaw.

Sam took an tentative step forward towards his brothers with every intention of pulling him into his arms and kissing the anger away. It wasn't until his hand was on Dean's shoulder that Sam realised what he was about to do in front of Bobby. Sighing he lightly squeezed at Dean's shoulder instead, hoping that the action looked like a guy offering his brother an acceptable form of comfort and not too much like he had abandoned a gentle caress half way through.

As soon as Sam's hand landed on his shoulder Dean seemed to relax, all the tension and angry draining from his body like someone had pulled the plug on him. Slowly Dean turned to smile up at him. He looked exhausted, tired to the bone and ready to drop at any moment. Sam wanted to pull rank for once and send Dean off to bed for some much needed rest but if Hope was right than they only had tonight to stop the werewolf until next month and they just couldn't do that. Couldn't decide to sleep when they knew innocent people could be getting killed.

Seeming to read his thoughts Dean nodded once and shrugged out of Sam's grasp with one easy role of his shoulder. Sam's hand fell back to his side, unable to do much more at this point in time than watch as Dean turned back to look at Bobby. He smiled apologetically before he launched into his little speech, his voice low and sounding just as tired as he looked.

"Keep her down in the panic room until we know she's legit. I know this is a lot to ask but we can't take her with us and I know you got enough fire power to knock her ass back to wherever she crawled from if she tries anything". As Dean spoke Bobby looked at him expectantly and Sam knew he was just waiting for Dean to shut up.

"You owe me boy". Dean nodded his head in agreement, they owed Bobby like a thousand already so what was one more. "I'll phone around, see if I can turn up some dirt. You never know, might get lucky for once". Sam really hoped they got lucky and she turned out to be telling the truth because the idea that their lives were just that screwed was giving him a headache.

"Thanks Bobby". Bobby clenched his jaw tightly shut as Dean breathed out his thanks in one quick breath, jerking his head slightly that meant they damned well better be. "You boys be careful". Dean smiled slightly for the first time in what felt like an age. "Always are". Yer right if they were always careful than Dean was the King of England and Sam was a moose. Bobby seemed to think the same because he snorted, shaking his head as he smiled slightly.

Smiling brighter now and a lot more genuine, Dean spun on his heels and continued to make his way out off the room. "Move your ass sasquatch we got work to do". Sighing at the stupid nickname that Dean had picked up from God knows where Sam tilted his head at Bobby, mumbling out a quick thank you before he started after Dean.

He caught up with him just as he was pulling the front door open, his smile gone and looking just as grim as he had when they first got here. The sky was dark now, the moon steadily working its way high into the sky. They only had tonight to find and kill the werewolf and it was going to take them at least six hours to get to Lenox, even with Dean's driving so they had to leave like an hour ago.

Despite everything Sam couldn't help but feel bad about leaving Hope behind, after all it was her case but Dean was right. They couldn't trust her, not at the moment anyway and it would be better for everyone if she stayed behind, giving Dean a chance to calm down before he had to see her again. And if it did turn out to be a legitimate case then maybe Dean wouldn't be so hostile towards her.

Yer right, who was he kidding? Dean was going to be a dick to her no matter what. Unless he suddenly found something about her that he really liked, something they had in common and Sam highly doubted that he would talk to her long enough to find that something. Oh god Sam wished the last week hadn't happened, wished that Cas hadn't dumped this shit in their laps because surly they deserved a rest.

They had stopped the apocalypse, had saved the world more than once and yet they were still chasing demons and monsters, still fighting the big bad's that wanted to rip the world apart. All Sam really wanted was to crawl into a big, soft bed that wasn't in a scummy motel and sleep for a year, wrapped around Dean and just feeling safe for once in his sorry life.

But like most of his dreams it was an empty one because it would never come true. They didn't get brakes like that, just one job after another and that was how their lived were going to be until the day they died because that was the life of a hunter and it was the only life they knew.


	12. Once Bitten Twice Shy

A/N: So another one again, sorry it took so long Christmas really gets in the way of these kinds of things. As always only Hope belongs to me. Please, please review because I would love to know what you think. I hope you are having a good day, night or whatever other time of the day you are reading this. All the best and thanks for sticking with me.

**Once Bitten Twice Shy**

By the time they got to Lenox the moon was high above them, the sky already starting to lighten. They only had a few hours to go before dawn and they weren't entirely sure what was going on. They didn't even know if it was a werewolf or not they were supposed to be hunting.

Glancing up at the old abandoned toy factory that loomed out of the darkness in front of them Dean clicked the magazine of silver bullets back into place. The Impala's trunk snapped closed with a soft click singling that Sam had found the extra gun and the small silver plated blade they had picked up last month from a yard sale out in Arkansas. "So according to Hope's notes all the victims over the last six months were last seen in or around this warehouse".

Ah yes Hope, the queen of research. She had put even Sam to shame with the amount of background work she had done on this. It seemed like she had been piling evidence for a good few months now and wasn't that just perfect because it proved that she hadn't just popped into existence a week ago. Though Dean was refusing to believe otherwise until he heard back from Bobby. He wanted undeniable proof before he so much as looked at that girl again.

He had spent the whole six hour drive listening to Sam read through her notes, listening to that slightly awed tone as he marvelled at the amount of detail she had gone into, even providing a name of the guy she believed the werewolf to be. It had all been neat and arranged and screaming OCD so loud that Dean had been surprised that she didn't have everything in lists and numbered or even alphabetised when he finally got a glance at the two inch thick folder she had shoved at him before they drove off.

Sighing Dean pushed away from the car. It had taken too long to get here even though Dean had broken every speed limit and ran every stop sign and they had only stopped once so Sam could take a piss. But it still hadn't been enough. They had three hours tops before they missed their chance and they couldn't be standing around yapping about it when they could be taking care of it.

"How sure was she?" Dean asked out of curiosity more than anything, he wanted to know everything he possibly could before he set foot in that place. And it's not that he doesn't trust her, because he doesn't. He really, really doesn't. It's just he has to know because this could still be a trap and Sam could get hurt and then what would he do?

He wished he could travel back in time, back to that shitty motel in the ass end of Portland and just tell Cas to fuck right the hell off. Tell him that they were busy and he could get one of his little angel bitches to do it for him, but no. That just wasn't a possibility for him, not ever an option. They were stuck here now, unsure of what they were really doing and following the directions of a girl who he didn't trust and he_ knew_ Sam didn't either, not entirely any way, no matter what he said.

"Sure enough that she got the floor plans for this place and all the security codes". Dean was not impressed, refused to be. Hope was up to something, had to be and he would be damned if he was going to let her lull them into a false sense of security, though her charms seemed to be working _really_ well on Sam.

Scowling at the rundown warehouse he refused to be jealous of some wide eyed, smug, over confident, pretty girl. Oh God what was _wrong_ with him? He was so angry, had been angry since he saw Hope in that shit little Goth bar, flashing a suggestive smile and every bit of skin she could without breaking the law.

He felt almost exactly the same as when Sam had been sixteen and would stumble into whatever decrepit motel they were staying in that week, drunk and completely out of it. Dean always got so angry at him for being so stupid, so careless. For not telling Dean where he was going or who with or for how long and Sam knew better then that damn it. He knew that the world was a dangerous place and that he shouldn't be wondering around with his guard down because that was always the moment the world decided to fuck you over like a $5 whore.

Dean knew he was overreacting, taking things a little too far, a little too serious and that was wired in of its self because that was normally Sam's area of expertise but it had all just kind of burst out of him with nowhere to go but Hope. She probably didn't deserve what he was doing to her but he just couldn't help himself, she made him angry for absolutely no reason.

Sighing Dean turned to look up at Sam. He dragged his eyes over his brothers to tall body, taking in every bruise and faded scar his eyes could find in the dim light of the streetlight next to them, his mind conjuring up all the other scars and blemishes, signs of their shit life that were hidden under blue plaid and his green jacket. Marks that he knew were there from memory. From spending hours mapping Sam's skin like it held all the answers he ever needed. From having to stitch the ripped and blood flesh back together.

Slowly he raised his free hand up to gently cup Sam's jaw in a tender sign of affection that normally he would run a thousand miles away from. Slowly he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of his brothers cheek, Sam's long eyelashes gently fluttering against the rough pad of his thumb with every sweep of the digit.

Dean's eyes flickered away from where his hand was and up to the small bruise on Sam's forehead before darting down to the angry ring of purple and black that looped around his throat. So ugly, demanding any onlookers attention as if they were a diamond necklace, shinning and twinkling in the midday sun. So dark and ugly and so easily could have be Dean's handprint squeezed into his throat, suffocating the life out of him. Breaking him.

Slowly he dragged his eyes back up to Sam's, staring into those deep dark pools, looking for any sign that he had finally come to his senses and this was no longer okay. This wasn't what he wanted anymore. Dean wasn't what he wanted.

Smiling gently Sam brought his own hand up to cover Dean's, turning his head slightly so he could nuzzle against his callus palm, his eyes slipping closed for just a moment. He looked so content, happy and Dean would give anything to keep him that way. "You okay Sammy".

It wasn't a question. More of a statement than anything else to reassure himself that his brother was indeed okay, that he wasn't keeping things from him and it was really snapped bones and internal bleeding. That it was resentment and some twisted feeling of guilt and duty. A feeling of having to because Dean was all he had and he couldn't lose him so he was just going with it, just to keep Dean sweet and there.

Dean felt Sam's lips move against his palm as he smiled, his tongue dragging against the rough skin as he licked at his dry lips. The action sent a small shiver down Dean's spin and instantly every doubt, every half formed feeling of guilt and self loathing vanished, his palm burring where Sam's lips were pushed gently against it. Stubbornly Dean refused to move, refused to brake the small shred of contact that Sam was offering him. Moments like this were few and far between so he had to make the most of them when he got them because who knew when it would be there last.

"Yer Dean I'm fine. Always fine". Dean's heart clenched as those few whispered words filled the air. Fine, always fine. Story of their life there, no matter how shit it got. It didn't matter how many bones got broken or how much blood they shed or even how many people they cared about had to be burned way, way before their time, they would still always be fine.

Smiling grimly Dean nodded his head slightly before pulling his hand free of Sam's grasp. His arm fell back to his side, his hand tingling where Sam's lips had been pushed against his palm. He missed the touch already, wished they could go back to that, all loving glances and gentle caresses. Wished they could just be two normal guys in love with one another. Not two brothers that were fucked up way beyond belief, who hunted monsters straight out of horror movies for a living, who spent their night wrapped around one another committing a sin so unforgivable they were bound to end up in hell for it. And wouldn't that make Crowley the happiest knife in the draw.

"We should head out, got ourselves a werewolf to kill". Dean didn't mean it to come out sounding so hopeless, so exhausted but his feelings got the better of him. He couldn't help that he felt that maybe this life, his life was just one impossible situation after another, constantly trying to brake him and push him over the edge until he couldn't take any more. Couldn't stand to breath any more.

Thankfully all Sam did was nod his head in agreement, bringing his hand up to offer Dean the spare gun whilst keeping the blade for himself. This was familiar, though not as familiar as a salt and burn. They hadn't had the pleasure - was that the right word? - of hunting that many werewolf's in their time, this one only making it number eight.

But the child like excitement that doing this had used to bring was long gone, buried under years of anger and self hate and disappointment and the stark reality that the world was going to Hell and it didn't matter what they did or how many monsters they killed they couldn't save it. If it even wanted to be saved.

Shoving the spare gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans Dean clicked the safety off his own gun and started towards the nearest door, pushing away any other thought that wasn't case related. They had a job to do and the sooner they got it over and done with the sooner he could just fall into Sam's arms and forget the world existed, if just for a while.

Moving quickly Dean made his way to the door, his fingers curling around the cold sticky metal of the handle. Frowning Dean pulled his hand away, turning it palm up so he could see the thick red goo that was now clinging to his skin. "What is it?"

Sam's chin dug into Dean's shoulder as he looked down at his brothers hand, his front pressed tight against Dean's back. "Blood". Rubbing his fingers together Dean smeared the dark red liquid over his fingertips. It was sticky, coagulated, meaning that the blood had started to clot. "Look".

Sam raised his arm, using his gun to point just to the left of the door. Four deep scratches had been gouged out of the wall, the brick smeared with more blood. Sighing Dean's body slumped in defeat. They were too late, always to late it seemed these days. Sighing gently Sam pulled away from his brother leaving Dean feeling cold and empty.

The loud click of Sam cocking his gun pulled Dean out of his thoughts and quickly he raised his own gun and grasped the handle tightly. What had he been thinking? It wasn't over, not by a long shot and they had a duty to go in there and kill the monster that thought it could kill innocent people and get away with it.

Taking a deep breath Dean yanked the door open and stepped inside, his eyes darting around the large room looking for any sign that it was a trap and the werewolf was waiting for them. Cautiously Dean made his way further into the room, his eyes constantly moving as he took in his surroundings.

The room smelt of dirt and blood with an underlining tinge of motor oil. The long work benches that stretched along the walls were littered with abandoned tools and half finished toys that gave the place an even eerier look. Made it feel that little bit more creepy than the last abandoned warehouse they had been in. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust giving the room an eerie grey glow in the light of the full moon that shone through one of the grubby and broken widows high above them.

Stopping in the middle of the room Dean slowly dragged his eyes across the floor. Blood was splattered across the floor in large puddles, smeared across the concrete as if something had been dragged through the room, but that couldn't be right.

Werewolf's were all about the heart , they didn't take the bodies with them. Well that was unless the person had been in the warehouse already but that didn't explain the blood on the wall outside. Unless there was another victim, another poor sap that had been unlucky enough to have been wondering around alone under the full moon.

Dean could hear Sam coming up behind him, his footsteps light and steady and as familiar to Dean as his own heartbeat. Turning slightly so he could look at his brother Dean nodded towards the large pool of blood that disappeared behind a half wall that separated the different parts of the workshop. Sam scrunched up his face in concentration, his calculating gaze locked on the dark smear on the wall. Nodding once Sam started forward, gun raised and eyes fixed on the space behind the wall.

Dean watched Sam move for a long few seconds, marvelling at how graceful he seemed considering how big he was before he disappeared around the wall and out of Dean's sight. Dragging his eyes away from the place where his brother had just been Dean took a few steps back and circles around the back of the large room.

The room was cold and deadly quite, the only sound his own footsteps echoing back at him. His heartbeat was steady, too many years of this to feel that heart thumping fear that had used to be there all those years ago when he had been fourteen and getting the crap beaten out of him by ghosts and demons and other Hell beats on a regular basses.

Taking deep steady breaths Dean made his way between two large racks of toys that never got the chance to be sold. Wooden trains and tiny rocking horses, wide eyed dolls and teddy bears, there once bright paint now dull and faded, chipped in places and only just showing through the dust.

Dean had been in a lot of creepy places over the years but there was just something about an abandoned toy factory that put it right up the top of the list of places Dean didn't want to be going to again anytime soon that also included Stanford and that dive bar out in the ass end of Nebraska where the hot little blond behind the bar had given him crabs.

Sam had refused to go anywhere near him until he was given the all clear. He had spent just over a week holed up in some shitty motel unable to go anywhere because Sam had taken the Impala and was staying at a completely different motel, only ever talking to Dean over the phone to let him know his food was outside the door.

Every time he had opened that door he had caught a glimpse of Sam in the driver's seat of his baby, watching him and every time he had found himself half way across the parking lot before he even registered what he was doing and that Sam was laughing at him down the phone. Telling him that he should really go back inside unless he wanted to have his precious baby fumigated.

That week had been an odd one. It felt strange not having Sam around, too much like how it had been when he had run off to Stanford. Dean drove himself half mad until the quite, the loneliness got the better of him and he finally gave in and called Sam.

They had spent hours on the phone that night just talking shit like brothers do, talking about everything and nothing at all. It had felt good just being brothers for once and they had done it every night until there was nothing left to talk about and Dean left the phone on loudspeaker just so he could listen to Sam moving about, could imagine he was there with him and not twenty miles away.

They hadn't done anything remotely brotherly lately and that was wrong. When this was all over and done with, before they headed back to Bobby's Dean was taking Sam to a bar. They could have a few drinks, shoot a little pool and just pretend they were exactly what they told the cops they were, two brothers just taking a road trip around the country.

They would have a genuine good time. Dean would flirt with every hot girl in the place but that would be it, he was a committed man now after all. Sam would do his awkward little half flirting half wanting to run away and hide thing that the kid now had down to a t.

They would have a few beers, Dean would have a few whisky's and then they would head out to the nearest motel. Sam telling him he had had too much to drink and that he should drive whilst tripping over his own gigantic feet. It would be perfect, pretty close to Dean's idea of heaven. If only heaven worked that way.

Dean was violently yanked out of his little dream world by the sound of a single shot echoing around the large room. "Sam". The name escaped from between his lips as nothing more than a whisper, his heart stuttering in his fear. Dean ran down the rest of the aisle, gun raised as a familiar panic started to build up inside of him.

It was always the same when Sam was out of his line of sight and something happened that suggested he wasn't one hundred percent okay. Dean's racing heart wouldn't return to normal until he laid eyes on Sam once more and could see for himself that he was alright, alive. The brotherly instinct to protect at all times engrained into his very soul by their farther taking over until saving Sam was all that mattered to him in that moment.

As Dean slid round the corner he came to an abrupt halt as Sam flew through the air and slammed into the shelving unit Dean had just come from behind. The shelves groaned under the impact, rocking slightly as if they were going to fall back and slam into the next one along.

Dean was at his brothers side within a heartbeat, falling to his knees so he could check him over, making sure he was still breathing, still alive. Dropping his gun into Sam's lap Dean grabbed his face with both hands and turned his pale face towards his own.

Sam groaned, his eyelids flickering as he tried to open his eyes. Dean was seriously starting to panic now. Though he couldn't see any blood it didn't mean that something wasn't wrong, that something wasn't broken. "Come on Sammy, talk to me".

He could hear the desperation in his own voice and he was. He was desperately clinging onto his brother, praying to whatever god would listen. Sam couldn't die, couldn't leave him. He had been through this twice before and he really didn't think he would survive a third time. "M' okay".

Relief slammed into Dean as Sam slowly opened his eyes and smiled groggily up at him. Of course he was okay, they were always okay. Laughing humourlessly in relief Dean gently slapped Sam's cheek, his head tilting forward to press their foreheads together. "You gotta stop doing this to me Sammy". Sam laughed gently, his face scrunching up slightly in pain as his body shook.

Groaning Sam began to move, slowly pushing himself forward as he began to pull himself up. Dean pushed himself up, his knees cracking in protest. Automatically he took hold of Sam's arm, helping to pull him up to his feet. Sam grunted as his feet slid on the dirty floor, his eyes slamming closed as his hand shot out to grasp at the self behind him.

Once he was standing on his own two feet without clinging onto Dean or the shelf for support Dean slowly let go of his brothers arm. Sighing Sam rubbed at his dust covered clothes looking more put out than anything else, like he was starting to get bored with the constant bashing he seemed to be getting and to that Dean could relate. Could understand how all this just became another part of life.

A low growl rumbled through the air sending a shiver down Dean's spine, his body going ridged as he slowly turned to face the door way through witch Sam had been thrown. His hand slipped behind him, fumbling for his spare gun as he berated himself for forgetting why they were here, for forgetting what had hurt Sam.

Dean saw Sam's hand twitch out of the corner of his eye, his long fingers wrapping tightly around the grip of Dean's gun, slowly bringing it up to shoulder level. Dean didn't know when Sam had picked it up, must have been when Dean had been too distracted to pay attention to anything else put the pain on Sam's face.

A small thrill of excitement shot through him at the sight of Sam holding his gun, his long fingers wrapped tightly around it, the muzzle glistening in the moon light just like Sam's spit had glistened in the dim light of their motel room. It didn't matter now that he had had that gun since he was eighteen, it would always remind him of Sam and the way his mouth looked stretched around it. Sucking on it like it was the sweetest thing, like it was salvation.

But he couldn't think about that now, couldn't let it take over his mind because then he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it and the way Sam's lips felt around his hard cock as he tried to suck it right down to the base, the tip nudging against the back of his throat. He would make such sweet, wanton noises as he worked Dean over, trying his best to suck Dean's brains out.

Violently Dean pushed the traitorous thoughts away, rolling his shoulders in a vain attempt to get rid of some of the tension he could feel crawling up his spine. "Werewolf?". Dean's voice comes out rough and choked because he really can't keep it in his pants it seems and he needed to be concentrating on the hunt and not Sam's other talents.

By now Sam had pulled himself up to his full height, his eyes narrowed and completely focused on the doorway in front of them. He was ready, alert, geared up to kill whatever monster was waiting for him just like a hunter should always be. "Werewolf".

Sam's firm voice confirmed the theory that Hope had been working on and despite everything he had said, despite the way he felt about her Dean couldn't suppress the annoying twinge of something that felt a lot like pride but that couldn't be right. He didn't know her, didn't have a reason to feel proud that she had been right in her theory. It was all one big tangled mess of confusion and his brain really couldn't handle that right now.

Pushing every thought that had nothing to do with the seemingly pissed off werewolf in the next room to the back of his mind, Dean started towards the large doorway, focusing everything he had on getting this over and done with as soon as humanly possible.

A dim light shone through the doorway, casting their shadows high up the walls. Rounding the door Dean squinted as his eyes fell on the exposed bulb of a lamp that had fallen to the floor. Half the room was bathed in a bright yellow light whilst the other half hid in the shadows. Finally adjusting to the new level of light Dean took a cautious step into the room. What he saw left his body cold as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, his eyes roaming across the carnage.

The dull walls were covered in photographs that looked to be of at least a dozen different women, all at various points throughout the day, all looking like they had been taken from a distance. Dean recognised one of the young women, could remember the mole under her left eye. Could remember how she looked laid out on a morticians slab with her chest cracked wide open.

The librarian that had been killed last month had been pretty. Not blond bombshell, wannabe supermodel pretty that Dean had used to go for, she was more of a classic beauty that Sam would have found attractive. She had been young and happy and from what they had read about her she had been loved by everyone who she came in contact with. But this, this looked like she had been picked, hunted. Pulling his eyes away from the bright smile of the now dead women Dean swept his gaze around the rest of the room.

An old matrices had been shoved into the near far corner, stained and ripped in places and looking like it had seen every dark and depraved sin the world had to offer. The lamp looked like it had been knocked off a small table that sat next to another door just to the right of Dean, the one Sam must of come through. Blood was splattered across the walls and pooled on the floor, some of the stains dark and crusted whilst other glimmered in the light, fresh and filling the air with the bitter metallic tang that you only got from blood.

Dean could remember a time when that smell had made him feel sick, had his stomach churning until he was doubled over and heaving but he hardly paid it any attention now, only taking note of how much was there and how many people would of had to bleed out to leave such big pools behind. He figured it had to be at least six.

A gentle snarl and the wet sound of something ripping reminded Dean of why they were here, of what they were supposed to be doing. Looking up from the dried blood pool at his feet Dean moved further into the room, keeping his eyes on the man crouched in the far corner, half hidden in shadows.

The guy was hunched over the body of a young girl, her chest having been ripped open, blood and guts clinging to the wall behind her. Her head was tilted awkwardly to the side and Dean knew her neck had been snapped. Her blood smeared lips were parted in a silent scream, her green eyes wide and dull, looking up at him with a desperate plea for help that Dean knew wasn't really there, well not now anyway. Her long brown hair was swept around and across her face, the strands at the bottom of her neck drenched with her own blood.

She looked so young, mid twenties at a push. So young and once beautiful but not anymore. Now she was bloody and broken with nothing left but an empty shell, the husk that had once held a bright burning soul.

The werewolf was crouched at her side, clawed hands shoved deep into her chest, her blood half way up his arms and smeared across his snarling jaw. Small bits of flesh clung to his sharp fangs, his milky eyes fixed on the women at his feet and the hole in her chest. With a soft growl the werewolf jerked his arm and another wet ripping sound filled the air.

Dean found himself unable to move, unable to do much more than just stand and watch as the guy pulled something that looked a lot like the girls heart from her chest. He could feel Sam behind him, knew from years of this that the tingling feeling he could feel clawing up his spine only came from having Sam so close. Quickly darting his eyes to the side Dean watched as Sam made his way further into the room till he was standing just behind him, his weary eyes fixed on the man hunched up in the corner as he ripped into the fresh heart.

This was a first for them. Never had they interrupted a werewolf feeding. Sure they had got to them before or after the act but to actually see it made Dean's stomach churn and the ham sandwich he had had at Bobby's before they left was threatening to make a reappearance. Oh God he felt like he was ten years old again on his first salt and burn, that unforgettable smell of decay having him heaving his guts up till he was sure he didn't have a stomach left let alone contents to bring back up.

Taking a deep breath to steady his thumping heart Dean lifted his gun till it was pointing at the monsters head. His aim was perfect, if he fired now he would hit the guy square in the middle of his forehead. If only Sam hadn't chosen that moment to take a step forwards.

The old and rotten floorboards groaned their protest as Sam moved to stand next to him. Dean's eyes widened in horror as his head snapped round to stare at his brother and his new unlucky spell. Sam was frozen in place, eyes wide and looking just as panicked as Dean felt, like he had just stepped on a trick wire and if he moved he was going to blow up into a thousand tiny pieces.

A low, menacing growl filled the air, echoing around the small space and slowly Dean turned his head to once again face the monster they were hunting. The werewolf's head had snapped up, it's pale hungry eyes fixed on them as it snarled, exposing its sharp white fangs. It was alert and solely fixed on them, trapping them in its gaze. So this made things harder.

This was ridicules. They were here to do a job and god damn it he was going to do it. With an exasperated sigh Dean squeezed the trigger but he had waited too long. The werewolf was flinging its self across the small gap between them before Dean could even register the movement, its hard body slamming into Dean's as he pulled the trigger once more, causing the bullet to hit the ceiling as he was sent flying backwards, hitting the blood splattered wall hard.

Grunting in pain Dean collapsed to the floor, a sharp pain shooting down his spine and _OH GOD_ something had to be broken._It hurt_. Everything hurt and it was all too soon. He hadn't quite recovered from being beaten on by that nest yet and it was too soon to be taking these kinds of hits. The new sharp pain overlapping the dull ache made it ten times worse and all he wanted was to curl up into a ball and cry till he couldn't feel it any more.

If their hunts carried on like this he was going to end up broken and bloody by the end of the month, run down and out of time. He would be taken out by whatever monster they were fighting that week because he was half out of it from the last one and nowhere near the top of his game. He would end up like most hunters and he hoped to whatever god was listening that Sam was far,_ far _behind him.

A pained yell pulled Dean from his dark thoughts and like the hand of God himself had shoved him Dean was up and scrambling towards his pined brother, swinging his gun round that he had miraculously managed to keep hold of during his shot flight and unloaded the entire clip into the monsters back, moving completely on instinct and the need to protect his brother.

With a pained howl the creature flung itself back , legs on either side of his brothers hips and its back arched. Turning its head it snarled at Dean, snapping its jaws as it made to move off of Sam and towards its attacker. Sneering Dean squeezed the trigger one last time, his final bullet hitting the monster square in the middle of his forehead. Its head snapped back with the force of the blow, its eyes going wide. Without a sound it slumped forward, collapsing onto his brother with a dull thud.

Lowering his gun Dean slumped forward, resting his hands on his knees as he pulled in deep breaths. His energy seemed to just evaporate out of his body, like something else had been pushing him forward for the last five minutes and now it was over it just abandoned him, leaving his body to feel very much like it had just been slammed into a wall.

"You okay there Sammy?" Pulling in a few more deep breaths Dean tried to calm himself down and once again gain control over his racing heart, but when he didn't get an answer his heart sped up tenfold, slamming against his rib cage as if it was going to burst free.

Quickly Dean scrambled forward, a constant chant of _oh god no please no_ running through his mind. Dropping his gun to the floor he grabbed hold of the werewolf's shoulder and yanked it back with all his strength, forcing its limp body to roll to the side and off his brother. What greeted him made Dean's panic sky rocket, his heart filling with dread.

Sam was covered in blood. His shirt and jacket had been ripped open across his right shoulder, the flesh shredded and split open. Sam's head was tipped to the side away from his wound, his own dark blood splattered up his neck and the side of his face. His eyes were closed, his long lashed laying gently against his tanned cheekbones. If it wasn't for all the blood Dean would have thought him sleeping. But there was blood. Too much blood and Sam wasn't moving, wasn't doing anything that a living human being should be. And _oh god_ he could see the blood, gurgling and oozing from the claw marks, could smell the iron in it. This was all wrong, so very, very wrong.

Dropping to his knees Dean lent over his brothers stiff body, ducking forward to press his ear against Sam's chest as his fingers sought out the pulse point on his neck. He was alive, he had to be. There was no after this, no more anything if he died. If his Sammy never smiled at him again, never laughed, never cried, never kissed him good morning. There would be nothing left for him without Sam.

Relief slammed into Dean like a bus. With his head pressed so tightly against Sam's chest he could hear the steady beating of his heart, could feel his chest rising and falling with ever breath he took. Turning his head he rested his forehead against Sam's chest and slammed his eyes shut, bringing both his hands up to clutch desperately at Sam's shirt as he forced back his tears.

He couldn't keep doing this. The constant fear of losing his brother was going to kill him long before any monster got the chance.

Sam groaned and Dean instantly snapped his head up and pushed off his brother till he was hovering over him, eye to eye. Without thinking he lunged forward, grasping Sam's face in both hands before pushing his lips hard against his brothers.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate and full of need but Dean didn't care. Didn't care that he was showing his true feelings, his weakness for Sam because that was what it was. He was weak when it came to Sam, always had been but it didn't matter. Sam was alive and that's all that mattered, was all that ever mattered.

Pulling back after what felt like hours but was most likely only minuets Dean gazed into Sam's wide eyes, watching as they focused on him. His full lips twitched as Sam smiled gently and lovingly at him, unable to resist returning the same smile, if only for a moment.

Letting his smile fall Dean glared down at his brother as he shoved himself away from Sam, pushing against the floor until he was once again kneeling next to him. Sam's smile feel as confusion took over. Slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows Sam stared at Dean with a mix of confusion and worry, wincing slightly as he carelessly put pressure on his injured shoulder.

"Dean what's wro...OW! What the hell man?" Dean's palm stung slightly from where it had collided with the back of Sam's head but he didn't care, Sam deserved it for putting Dean through that kind of shit twice in the last twenty minutes. "Bitch don't do that to me _ever_ again".

Sam sighed, slumping back down onto the hard and bloody floor, mumbling that he hadn't planned on almost being killed twice in one day. Dean slammed his mouth shut, not wanting to point out it was technically three times in the last twenty-four hours if you counted the vampires back in Texas. He really didn't want to think about that little fact. Didn't want to acknowledge that the world had all of a sudden decided that they obviously didn't have enough near death experiences under their belts.

Pushing himself up Dean held out his hand towards Sam, waiting for him to take the offered help. Looking up at Dean from where he was sprawled across the floor Sam sighed, lifting his uninjured arm and waving it vaguely in the direction of Dean's hand.

Huffing out a small laugh somewhere between annoyed and amused Dean grabbed at his brothers waving hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around his wrist as he felt Sam do the same to him. In one quick move Dean yanked on Sam's arm, pulling him up and ducking down slightly to slip his arm around his waist to take all his weight . Couldn't have him stumbling and falling on his face now could he.

Sam grunted as Dean bumped slightly against his clawed up shoulder as he slipped his arm around Sam's waist, making sure he stayed on his feet and didn't end up back on his ass on the floor. It would be just their luck that Sam would slip on a pool of his own blood and end up knocking himself out.

They would have to go to the emergency room because Dean would panic and he wouldn't know what to do. There would be questions he wouldn't be able to answer and accusing looks and so much uncertainty but worst of all was the thought of all the constant blows they seemed to receive to their heads finally taking their toll.

There could be brain damage, things Sam would never be able to recover from but most worrying was the kind of hits Sam's wall was taking. What if all this damage to his brain somehow broke 'The Great Wall Of Sam' and then he could remember all the pain and suffering he had gone through in Hell, all the cruel crap he had done without a soul. That could kill Sam, send him crazy and then what would Dean do? What _would_ he do?

It was the $1000 question that Dean didn't know the answer to. If the past was anything to go by he would do something stupid and reckless that would leave Sam hating him for his choices, resenting him for doing that to himself and to Sam and it would hurt like a thousand hell hounds ripping into him but at least he would still have his Sammy, the way he was meant to be and not a drooling mess on the floor of a padded cell.

Shoving the poisonous thoughts away Dean pulled Sam tight against his side, wrapping Sam's long arm around his own neck before gripping his wrist tightly. Sam grunted as Dean pulled him closer, his eyes drooping closed. He had lost a fare bit of blood, not enough to be in need of a hospital but still enough that he was pretty out of it.

"Come on Sammy, let's get you back to the car so I can stitch you up". Sam mumbled something that sounded a lot like bodies but Dean really couldn't be sure. Glancing down at the body at his feet Dean sighed. They needed to burn them or bury them, something to hide the evidence of what they had been up to but Sam came first. They could prat around with all that latter, after he got Sam cleaned up and stitched back together.

"Latter, you first". Sam grunted a reply but weather it was positive or negative was anyone's guess. Taking a steady step forward Dean half dragged Sam along beside him, his feet sliding along the floor as he tried to keep pace with Dean for once.

This was a familiar routine, one of them dragging the other along beside them as they mentally ran through everything they were going to have to do from dumping a fuck lode of holly water over the wound to clean it because that was all they had in the trunk, unless they still had that half drunk bottle of Jack under the driver's seat and Dean really didn't want to risk waiting till they got to a motel. All the way down to where he had left the needle and thread in the trunk because he was sure it was under the rock salt but Sam had had it last so it could be next to the shotgun.

As they made their way past the body of the young women Dean glanced down to make sure neither of them tripped over any of her limbs or slipped in her blood. As his eyes landed on her dim green ones Dean sucked in a deep breath, stopping where he stood. With narrowed eyes he gazed down at the lifeless body telling himself again and again that it wasn't her.

For a split second he had seen Hope sprawled out in front of him, lifeless and bloody. The image had made him feel sick and filled him with panic that he really couldn't explain, even though he knew she was hundreds of miles away in South Dakota.

Dean couldn't help but wonder what would of happened if Hope had come, if they hadn't of run into her in Fort Worth and taken her on a slight detour? Would she have come on her own? Would she have survived? Would the werewolf have gotten the best of her?

She fit the type all the way down to eye colour and height. He had seen werewolf's when they were on a hunt. They would go all out crazy until they got what they were after and it never ended pretty for the pray.

Mentally making a note to call Bobby as soon as he had Sam sorted Dean began moving forward again, slowly making his way from the small back room and down the corridor that Sam had come down. It was slow going but Dean didn't mind so much, though he made sure to bitch about how much Sam weighed and that all those salads really weren't doing anything for him. He wouldn't be doing his brotherly duty if he didn't.

And that's what Sam needed right now, his older brother and not the possessive sex starved lover that he was becoming more and more these days. When it all came down to it he was Sam's brother, first and foremost and nothing was going to ever change that. Not even a fallen angel, the apocalypse and a demon whore. They were family and family always came first.

(SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNS PNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSP NSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN)

The gentle shuffling of feet faded quickly as the brothers made their way down the corridor and back towards the Impala, retreating back to the safety and comfort it offered. Sighing in relief Hope pushed herself away from the wall where she had been hiding amongst the shadows, watching the events of the last ten minutes unfold before her and made her way into the middle of the small room that looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

Stopping next to the bullet riddled body Hope nudged at his cheek with her foot, gazing down at it with indifference as its head lolled to the side, his long blond hair falling away from his face exposing wide blue eyes and pale lips parted in a silent scream. A single drop of blood had slid down his forehead and across the bridge of his nose from the hole in the middle of his head, the bullet having burrowed deep into his skull.

He was young, early twenties at a push. Too young to have died so violently. She could see that he had been beautiful in life, had probably been chased by all the girls and adored by many but none of that mattered now. He was full of holes and riddled with metal, his once attractive face contorted by agony and death. An ugly monster. A killer. Hated by many and feared by all. Just like her.

But once a month his monster showed for all the world to see, to physically recoil away from in horror and disgust. Hers was hidden, wrapped around her very core. It was buried so deeply under lies and charm that sometimes even she couldn't see it, couldn't feel it pulsing under her skin, scratching away at the last bit of humanity that had survived her wretched life.

Sighing Hope nudged at his jaw with the slightly pointed tip of her boot, pushing his mouth closed. She really didn't need to see what was left of the young girls heart to know what he had been chewing on just moments ago. Plus it was completely unattractive to have his mouth hanging open like that, like he was trying to catch flies.

The far of sound of the door to the warehouse clicking shut pulled Hope away from her pointless thoughts and back to the world around her. She didn't have much time, was only supposed to of been checking in and making sure the two idiots didn't get themselves killed before she had a chance to win them over. She need them to trust her so completely that they wouldn't question her when she finally told them who she was and what she wanted from them. She needed them alive and safe, just for a little while longer and then they could do whatever the hell they wanted. Their future had nothing to do with her.

"Keep telling yourself that then maybe one day it'll be true". Letting out a huff of annoyance Hope pushed the smug smooth voice to the back of her mind, refusing to pay it any attention. But as she pulled in a deep breath the faint sweet tang of fresh blood assaulted her senses and left her mouth watering.

Quickly she sunk down to the floor, her knees landing in a still body warm pool of blood. This close she could really smell the blood, taste it on her tongue with every breath she took. It was overpowering, pushing in on her from all directions and left her body shaking with the need to just taste.

She could feel blood soaking into her faded jeans, turning the light blue a deep dark almost black like the night sky. She could feel it spreading up her thighs and down to her ankles, the familiar warm feeling tugging at her well maintained control. _Oh God_ she needed.

Collapsing forward Hope shoved her face into his neck, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his blood soaked shirt. She didn't care that she was getting covered in blood, that she was smearing it across her cheeks and over her lips. Getting it under her nails and in her hair, she just couldn't get enough.

Pulling in a deep breath Hope moaned in hunger, her mouth falling open as she sucked in the fragrant air, her eyes slipping closed in pleasure. Oh heavens he smelled so good, like a juicy steak just begging to have teeth sunk into it and rip it to pieces and she was so hungry. Starved even. She hadn't eaten in days and she could feel her power starting to subside, her body yearning for that warm wet nectar, the elixir of life itself.

"Go one, have a taste. You know you want to". Those few words felt like being held under in a pool of ice water, choking on the cold liquid as it forced its way into her lungs. Clutching tighter at the dead man's shit Hope took one last breath then slammed her mouth shut. What was she doing?

She was better than this, had been taught better. She wasn't that desperate little girl begging her protector, her salvation for one more drop, one more hit just like the strung out disgusting humans he had told her about so many times. She had control over this, had been living with it for the past sixteen years and she wasn't going to let it take over her life, not now not ever. She controlled the monster _not_ the other way around.

Snapping her eyes open she slowly uncurled her fists, her knuckles cracking with the effort to prize them away from the damp cotton. She could wait, had gone longer than this before and she would be damned if she was going to let a little hunger and that smug, self satisfied bastard turn her into a desperate junkie that would sink so low as to actually drink werewolf blood.

Smiling Hope pushed herself up off the floor and away from the body at her feet, her blood slick hands slipping against her soaked denim covered knees. "Ugh so boring". Chuckling gently Hope turned her head slightly so she could look over her shoulder at the older man who was leaning casually against the wall next to the doorway the Winchester's hand disappeared through.

His arms were folded tightly over his chest, the sleeves of his grey shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing his pale skin. The buttons were undone showing the green t-shirt he wore underneath. His short dirty blond hair was messy and sticking up in places, looking very much like he had just rolled out of bed. His day old stubble was present as always and Hope so desperately wanted to carve it off with her bowie.

His blue eyes were sparkling with knowing as he pouted teasingly at her, daring her to answer back and she would. They both knew it so why she was biting the inside of her lip and trying not to was beyond her because she could already feel the words bubbling up inside of her and threatening to burst free.

"I have standards unlike someone". Laughing at the stunned look on the older man's face Hope turned her attention back to the body, giving it one last look before she started to move back towards the wall. She had done what she had come to do even if she hadn't been planning on shoving Dean off the floor and lending him her energy but the idiot had just been sitting on the floor watching his brother get ripped into like a happy meal so what else was she supposed to do?

She had kept them alive and now she needed to get back before Bobby became suspicious if he wasn't already. None of them really trusted her as it was and she didn't need to make them suspect her more than they already did, no matter how right they were. "You'll pay for that".

Smirking she shoved her blood covered hands deep into her pockets. She had heard that line so many times in her life that it had long ago became an empty threat, except from him. He was a man of his word and he always kept his promises. "Looking forward to it". And she was. She couldn't wait to find out what he would do to her.

With a wide smile and laughter in her eyes Hope flickered out of existence just as she stepped up to the wall, her body wavering like an old TV being turned off. The faint sound of Dean bitching at Sam the last this she heard before the world went black and everything went silent.


	13. Don't Believe Everything You Hear

A/N: So another one again, sorry it took so long. I lost half the chapter and had to start all over again, it was a living nightmare, but, on the plus side I have finally got a Beta. YAY! So here it is guys my first betaed chapter and all thanks to the fabulous Ciar. So thank you Ciar for taking pity on me and signing up for this. As always only Hope belongs to me. Please, please review because I would love to know what you think. I hope you are having a good day, night or whatever other time of the day you are reading this. All the best and thanks for sticking with me.

**Don't Believe Everything You Hear**

Flinging the cloth over his shoulder, Bobby grabbed blindly for his ringing phone, the shrill sound rattling around his skull and making his already pounding head feel ten times worse than it was already.

"What?" Bobby snapped at the person on the other end of the line, sounding too harsh and pissed off but it was late, or early depending on how you looked at it and he really needed some sleep right about now or he was going to shoot the next person who so much as looked at him, let alone spoke to him.

"Nice talking to you to Bobby". Bobby's eyes slipped closed as he groaned in frustration, his free hand coming up to rub at his forehead. Of course it would be Dean. All snarky and full of attitude, not something Bobby needed right now or wanted to deal with, at all.

Taking a deep breath, Bobby pulled his annoyance back under control, his hand falling from his brow as his tired eyes flickered open. "What you two idjits gone and done now?" he groused, turning back to the stove and blindly grabbing for the wooden spoon as he went.

He could practically hear Dean's annoyance at the question but what had he been expecting. Nine times out of ten they only called when they needed something or when one of them had gone and done something stupid or reckless or even both. Those two had a death wish and were always trying to include Bobby in their stupidity. Though he had to admit, grudgingly, that he had had his own fair share of stupid moments throughout his life. Still, he felt sure his antics were nothing compared to Sam and Dean's at their 'finest'.

Dean's voice floated down the line, sounding like an unhealthy mix of annoyance, anger and a faint covering of humour. "Just thought you'd like to know we're still in one piece. Well, mostly anyway. Sam got a bit of a busted shoulder but it's nothing I can't fix".

"The kid alright?" The question was out of Bobby's mouth before he could even think because, realistically, Sam had to be fine or he and Dean would be having a very different kind of conversation. Why Bobby still called them kids he didn't know. Dean had never really been a kid, not after Mary's death, and Sam hadn't been a kid since he was eight years old and Dean had finally caved and told him what their father really did for a living.

That young boy had spent the better part of the next year terrified that everything that went bump in the night really did want to eat him. But, ultimately, Sam had had Dean there to keep him safe and they had grown up to be good men, true heroes. Didn't stop Bobby from thinking of them as kids though, as _his_ kids.

"Lost a little blood and took a bang to the back of the head but he's got a thick skull, didn't feel a thing". Dean raised his voice on the last part, clearly aiming the insult at his brother. A muffled jerk was the only answer Dean got and Bobby could practically hear Dean smiling down the line.

Bobby couldn't really pinpoint when name-calling had become terms of endearment for the boys but that was what it was. It was their way of saying 'I love you' to one another without all the chick flick moments that Dean professed to hate so much. Though Bobby had seen Dean have a good few of those moments over the years, almost all of them revolving around his brother. Just like everything in Dean's life.

Sighing, Bobby let go of the phone, holding it tight between his shoulder and the side of his head, so he could grab hold of the pan and stir the eggs without the pan flying off the stove. Five in the morning and he was making breakfast, he was definitely getting too old to keep doing this, he needed rest.

"So...werewolf?"He asked. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he caved, asking the one question that had been eating away at him since Hope had waved that paper around. He needed to know, had to know, if he had missed something. Months of something that had cost people their lives, something that he should have picked up on long ago. Dean's silence was enough of a conformation for him.

He had missed it. After all these years spent chasing omens and signs, he had missed something important. But it hadn't just been the once, he had missed months of stories, of attacks and murders. He had even missed the part with a woman having her heart ripped out. What was wrong with him?

"Uh, yeah. Yeah it was. Damn thing had a type though, thought Sammy was a girl. Easy mistake to make". There was another muffled jerk that sounded like it had been spoken through a pillow. "Bitch". Dean mumbled back, the usual amusement missing from his tone though, like it was nothing but an automatic reaction to his brothers words.

Bobby hummed his approval, his agreement, his whatever the hell it was supposed to be because he still couldn't get past the part where he had missed it. Glaring down at the pan he pulled it off the heat, so as not to burn the eggs, as he half-heartedly mumbled the only thing that came to mind. "Hope will be glad to know she was right".

He shouldn't have brought Hope up but someone had to and he knew Dean would be just itching to know what Bobby had found out about the girl. It was sad to see Dean so untrusting of people but life as a hunter did that to you and the hand that life had dealt those two boys just made it worse, for everyone involved. "Yeah she uh... she did good".

Dean sounded like he had had to force the words out from between gritted teeth. Bobby really couldn't understand why Dean seemed to dislike Hope quite so much. She was a pleasant enough girl, once you got to talking with her. She minded her P's and Q's, though it was unnerving how much she knew about them and their pasts, but she had offered up just as much about her own life in return.

Picking up the pan, Bobby evenly divided the eggs between the two chipped and faded plates that sat on the side next to the stove. Silence surrounded him, apart from the gentle hum of the shower from above and the faint sound of Dean breathing down the line.

It was strange talking to Dean on the phone while someone else moved around his house. He was so used to the other person in his home being Sam or Dean that it felt strange having someone there who wasn't one or both of them, not that the Winchesters had given him much choice in the matter. They had practically dumped the girl on his doorstep, giving him little room to argue about having his basement turned into a holding cell for suspicious people.

"Soooo?" Dean dragged out the 'o', trying to sound bored and natural at the same time and failing spectacularly at both. Bobby could hear the question bubbling just under the surface, just begging to be answered. But if Dean had something he wanted to know he was gonna have to ask it like a normal person. "So what?"

Bobby responded, matching Dean's tone of voice .He knew what Dean was really asking him, knew what this was all about. Those boys hardly ever called him after a hunt to let him know they were still alive and kicking. Instead they had a checking-in system; call every Friday at 6pm no matter what. Apart from that, they only ever called when they wanted something.

"So is she good or have I gotta come back and gank her ass?" Dean asked.

Sighing, Bobby placed the pan back on the stove all the while wondering how Dean even managed to make it through life, considering how suspicious he was of people. As the pan clunked against the metal rings, the gentle humming that had filled the air stopped with a loud groan as the water was shut off.

Inwardly Bobby groaned in frustration. He didn't need Hope hearing this. She had known that they were going to check out her story. They needed proof that she really was who she said she was but she didn't need to know how deep Bobby had dug to find everything out. The floorboards above him creaked as Hope moved around the small bathroom, and Bobby sent up a silent plea that she would remain upstairs until this conversation was over.

"No, Dean. The only thing you need to do is get your sorry ass back here and apologise you idjit". Bobby said Dean's name with a little more force than necessary, a slight edge to his words that only came out when he was angry or annoyed.

The line was pretty much silent but he could hear a soft murmuring, half-formed words that Bobby could just about recognise as Sam questioning what was being said. He was probably telling Dean to be nice because that was how Sam was, nice to a fault until he knew otherwise. "So she..."

"Spoke more truth in the last day than you have in the last year? Yeah that's about right". Bobby said, cutting Dean off before he could say anything he would later regret and, yeah he knew his words had been a little bit of a low blow but it was true. As far as he could tell, everything she had said had been true, right down to the smallest detail.

He had spoken to every hunter and old friend trying to dig up as much about Hope Wesson as he possible could. Every last one of them had heard of her. The ones that didn't know about her past still knew of her; had met her at one point or another, and each and every one of them had vouched for her.

Dean had fallen silent on the other end of the line and Bobby could no longer hear Hope moving around the bathroom any more. Sighing, Bobby felt his mind slipping as all those thoughts he had been trying to keep at bay bombarded his tired mind.

_When had his life got like this?_ By rights, at his age, he should be retiring right about now. Maybe going fishing or playing golf, whatever dull thing old guys like him took up to pass all the free time they suddenly had, not running around after monsters and constantly putting his life under stress. But he couldn't just let those boys go at it alone, those idjits wouldn't survive long without his constant help and someone to watch their backs.

"Yeah well, good for her". Dean's words were mumbled, only just audible, and if he had been in the room Bobby would have smacked Dean upside the head for being so damned childish.

Frowning, Bobby yanked the oven open, pulling out the warming plate. The metal was hot against his skin, almost uncomfortably so, making his skin itch slightly.

In one quick move Bobby yanked the plate out and dumped it on the counter, letting go of it as soon as it was touching the counter. Cursing softly under his breath, Bobby shook his hot hand in the air as if it would help to cool it down.

Glaring down at the plate of bacon and mushrooms, he thought about just chucking the damned thing. It would make a satisfying sound as it collided with the wall but that would be a waste of time and effort, and he really couldn't be bothered to make more. After all, he had promised Hope breakfast. Sighing, he grabbed the spatula off the side and started to divide the warm food between the two plates.

He had almost forgotten he was on the phone until Dean piped up again, demanding more than Bobby's word. "So what'd you find out?" Bobby froze, spatula half way towards the warming plate. What could he say to that? As far as he saw it, he had two options. He could tell Dean everything he had found out about Hope, right down to the last little detail, or, he could just not.

Some of the things he had found out were personal to a point that Bobby would never want anyone to know those kinds of things about him. They were her stories to tell when she was ready, if she ever was. People had to earn the right to know these things, had to earn the person's trust and, as Bobby saw it, at the moment those two boys didn't deserve to know how deep Hope's scars ran, both physically and mentally.

Placing the spatula back down on the side, Bobby braced himself against the counter, the small phone still cradled between his shoulder and the side of his head. He wouldn't be lying, he just wouldn't be telling them the whole truth.

Turning round he leaned back against the counter, the wooden edge digging into the small of his back. Slowly he raised his hand up to grasp the phone and_ finally_ move his head, his neck clicking as he stretched the cramped muscle. "She was born on the 14th February 1985 to Jonathan and Marie Wesson at the family home in Dickson Tennessee. She's an only child and, as far as I can tell, she has no family still alive".

Bobby paused, those last few words standing out in his mind like a flashing neon sign. No family still alive. Hope was completely and utterly alone in this world and, from what he had dug up, no one really knew that much about her after her parents were killed, which stood to reason as she didn't let anyone get close. So why break the habit now? Why let the Winchesters in?

Dean made a small humming noise down the phone, indicating that he had taken that part in and reminding Bobby that he was supposed to be talking, was supposed to be backing up his previous words of acceptance. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Bobby took a deep breath before he continued with the life story of Hope Wesson.

"Her parents were brutally murdered when she was six years old. When the police got there the bodies were pretty much unrecognisable, had to use dental records to identify them. They found Hope hiding in a crawl space under the living room floor". A small sound fluttered down the line, a small gasp of shock or pity and Bobby knew then that Dean must have put him on loud-speaker so Sam could hear what he was saying. That was good. Meant he wouldn't have to go through all this again.

"The cops never found out who did it, or why, and couldn't get a word out of the kid about anything". Sighing, Bobby brought his free hand up to rub at the back of his neck. There was a lot he could say right about now. A lot that wasn't his place to go blabbering about, but he trusted those boys and it seemed that Hope did as well. Well, trusted the Winchesters enough not to kill her, or hand her over to the authorities, but still he couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to give up secrets that she had never told him. "Her godfather turned up about a week later, a guy named Jimmy Smith. He just..."

"Hang on, some guy named Jimmy Smith?" Frowning down at the two plates Bobby huffed out an annoyed grunt. "Yeah, so?" Why was this important? "Some guy called _Jimmy Smith_ went and got a girl named _Hope Wesson_? Smith and Wesson? That don't seem a little odd to you?".

Bobby knew what Dean was getting at, he had had the same suspicions when Hope had first mentioned her godfather but everything had checked out. It was just one of those things. "He's legit". Dean huffed out some mumbled words that were too low for Bobby to work out but he recognised the dull thud and pained grunt that followed.

Bobby couldn't help but smile, hoping that Sam had got Dean somewhere that would hurt for at least a few hours. Bobby had been doing this since before Dean was even a twinkle in his daddy's eyes and the boy damned well deserved a smack round the head for questioning if Bobby could do his job right.

"Yeah okay. Happy coincidence. Whatever". Dean grumbled.

Dean sounded pissed and Bobby knew he was sulking like a little girl. Dean always got like that when Sam told him off, even more so when he knew he was in the wrong.

"As I was sayin'." Bobby continued. "He turned up a week later, signed all the necessary papers and then just took off with the kid. Dropped right off the grid. No one heard of them again till she was 16 and got arrested for braking into a church crypt out in New England. Police found her with a shovel, some salt and a bottle of gas".

Shoving the phone back between his ear and shoulder, Bobby grabbed hold of the two plates and turned toward the small table shoved up against the wall. He had cleared away all the papers and printouts as soon as he had got the chance, not wanting Hope to see some of stuff he was working on. It was the first time in months that table had been completely clear of books and papers. It seemed so big without things stacked hazardously on top of it, giving the room a sort of empty feeling.

Shoving the stupid thought to the back of his mind Bobby placed the two plates down on opposite sides of the table. He had already set out the silverware and had even poured Hope a glass of juice, but was that right? Did she even like juice? Maybe she would have preferred tea or maybe coffee, hell maybe she would have just preferred a glass of water. It had been so long since he had had to worry about things like this that the whole experience was filling him with unusual nerves.

Huffing out an annoyed sigh, Bobby pulled out the chair closest to the door and sank into it, his whole body seeming to deflate as soon as his ass hit the hard wood. What was he doing? It didn't matter what she preferred, she was a guest in his house and would damned well get what she was given. "So...she a hunter then?"

Bobby's whole body jerked as Dean spoke; the phone falling from his shoulder. Quickly, he scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground and smashed into little pieces. Slowly he brought it back up to his ear, his mind slowly running over Dean's question. It had been one of the first things he had asked everyone he had spoken to, desperate to know that the person he had let into his home was legitimate and not about to blow his brains out. He had got the same answer from every last one of them.

Slumping back into his chair, Bobby tried to relax. It was a simple question; he had nothing to worry about. "Yeah, she's a hunter". He had seen the scars to prove it, both mentally and physically. Had seen them as she talked about her father, had seen them as she stretched up to pull a glass from the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. A lattice of puckered angry lines, smooth and pink spread out across her skin, branding her for what she was. "That's good". Dean replied, sound not even a little bit like he meant what he said.

Huffing out a small chuckle at Dean's forced words, Bobby shook his head. That was as close to an apology as anyone was going to get out of that boy. He was as stubborn as a mule and wouldn't say sorry to no one unless he really had to.

His father had been just the same, never backing down and barging in head first without asking the right questions. When John got it wrong and came scurrying back, tail between his legs, he never uttered a word that even remotely sounded like sorry. Hell, Bobby didn't even think the guy had known what the word meant; let alone how to use it. Dean was just the same and Bobby wished that had been the only thing Dean had gotten from his father.

"So? How's _things_?". Dean spoke like the words were something nasty and had to be forced out from between gritted teeth, like they were venom on his lips.

The tone surprised Bobby, he had only ever heard Dean speak like that to or about demons, so why Dean thought Hope disserved the same sort of spite was beyond him. And Dean did mean Hope, Bobby knew he did. Knew that he wanted to know what the girl had been like without having to ask straight out.

That was the thing with Dean, you always had to read between the lines to find out what he really meant.

"_Things _have been fine". Bobby replied, putting as much force behind the first word as he could without outright yelling. He didn't need Hope to come bounding down the stairs wanting to know what was wrong. He didn't need the stress of having to explain this whole conversation to her, nor did he want to see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes when she found out how badly Dean was taking to her in general.

"It's been just like havin' you two here but ten times less stressful and about ten times more polite". Bobby snapped. And it had been like having those two there except, all rolled into one with a little added politeness, smarts, and mystery thrown in for good measure.

As soon as the Impala had shot off down the drive, Hope had swung her bags over her shoulder and made her way wordlessly down to the panic room in the basement. It had irked Bobby that she had known the layout of his home without having to even ask where anything was. He blamed those damned books of Chuck's, full of important information and anyone who had so much as a library card could get hold of them.

Hope had flung herself facedown onto the small cot in the middle of the room, with as much grace as a baby giraffe, mumbling something about getting some rest whilst she still could. Bobby had just stood there watching her, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into, before she had flapped her hand in his general direction and shooed him from the room, telling him to 'go get his Miss Marple on already'.

He had grumbled his annoyance at being treated like hired help in his own home, as he slipped from the room and made his way up stairs to start his monumental task of finding out who this girl was. And he had been so sure he had bolted the panic room door behind him, had heard it click into place, but he couldn't have because three hours later when he had finally managed to get off the phone, he had found Hope lounging at the kitchen table, booted feet up on the table top, and laptop open in front of her. A half-drunk bottle of whisky that Dean had left behind last time he had stayed for more than a few hours sat next to her feet, considerably more empty than it had been whilst she nursed a mostly empty tumbler.

Bobby had stood there frozen, a sense of déjà vu slamming into him like a freight train. He had seen Dean like that so many times before that he had lost count, same mischievous glint in his eyes and cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was such a familiar sight but on a completely different person, yet it still managed to look natural, like it belonged there.

Hope had raised an eyebrow questioningly at him. The movement seemed to jog him from his thoughts and in two big strides he was across the room smacking her feet off the table and telling her, that despite popular belief that wasn't how things were done in his house. She had apologised quickly, yanking her feet off the table as quickly as she could. She didn't give up the bottle of whisky though when he looked at it pointedly.

He had been ready to take the bottle from her when she waved the glass in the general direction of the chair opposite her, silently asking him to join her. He had thought about declining but tiredness had gotten the better of him and he slipped into the chair, every muscle aching. Hope silently refilled her glass only to slide it over towards him, smiling reassuringly at him, before downing what was left straight out of the bottle.

She had been up and across the room before she had even finished swallowing, pulling another bottle from the cupboard along with another glass. He had been reluctant to drink the amber liquid, not wanting it to cloud his judgment, but when she asked him what he knew he found himself glad to have something in his hands to stop him fidgeting like a child that had been called to the headmaster's office. The burn as he gulped it down helped as well.

They spoke for hours about her life, her family, cases she had worked on and ones she had just let slip by, until he could no longer stand the look of regret and loss in her eyes. Until the emotion-less drawl of her voice made him wish that he was deaf. It was one thing knowing about how shit hunters lives were but listening to her talk, as if it was all hard facts, as if it was always how her life was meant to be, it was damned well depressing.

He had left her at the table, still nursing her glass and staring blankly out the window at the night sky, almost as if it held all the answers to the questions she didn't even know she had. She was so lost in her own thoughts that Bobby didn't even think she noticed him slipping from the room to check over what she had told him.

Hours later, when the sky was just starting to get lighter, when he finally started to worry because he hadn't seen nor heard Hope since he had left her in the kitchen, he pulled himself away from his research in hopes of finding the girl still in the kitchen. When he found that room empty, he began to make his way through the house, going from room to room in search of her, growing more worried as each one was just as empty as the last.

When he found the house completely void of any other life he truly started to panic. What if it had all been just an act? What if she had just been waiting for him to no longer see her as a threat so she could steal books, or ingredients, or some of the rare amulets and other assorted magic items he had laying about the house? What if she really was the monster Dean thought her to be?

He finally found her out in the garage, elbow deep in the engine of some old rust bucket of a truck. She was humming along to some rock song that played softly from the old radio she had placed atop of a stack of books, on top of the work-bench. Most of them weren't even in English, hell some of them he hadn't even got around to translating yet.

The bottle of whisky sat next to the radio, a lot more full that it had been when Bobby had seen her last, the glass nowhere in sight. That girl drank whisky like it was water, having almost drunk every bottle of the stuff he had, though she had left the real good stuff, that even Dean wasn't considerate enough to leave well enough alone.

As he moved further into the room, he got a good look at what she was doing. She had the hood up and was practically laying flush against the engine, one hand bracing herself against the side whilst the other was shoved deep into the bowels of the vehicle, her head turned towards a book she had propped up against the open hood.

It took embarrassingly too long for him to recognise the sweeping curves and ruler-straight lines of symbols as Enochian. It took him even longer to realise that she wasn't humming along to the song that was playing on the radio but that she was actually reading the book out loud. Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper, so he couldn't quite understand what she was saying exactly, but from the way her eyes were sweeping over the pages he knew she was reading the book.

He had meant to ask her where she had learned to understand Enochian but she had distracted him with questions about the other books she had surrounded herself with, seeming as though her purpose was to try and make him forget what he had been so interested in knowing. Soon enough, the conversation had veered off onto other topics and as soon as she had mention that she would kill for the chance to eat a home-cooked breakfast that was it, he was offering to make her one before he could even register the words leaving his mouth, the original question long since forgotten.

And that was how he ended up where he was now; Hope in his shower, the food getting cold, and Dean pretty much demanding that Bobby justify his decision to declare Hope trustworthy. "Good. That's good". Dean didn't sound like it was good; he sounded disappointed, angry maybe. Like it was anything but good. That boy had more trust issues than any therapist would have a hope of untangling, even with regular sessions throughout the rest of that boy's life. He got that from his father too.

A loud bang echoed around the house, rattling the window frames, and causing the various books and artefacts to shake on their shelves. Hurried footsteps could be heard as Hope made her way from the bathroom and towards one of the spare rooms that Bobby had let her move into, after he had pulled her life apart and deemed her human. Another bang sounded through the house as she shut herself away in the room. Sighing Bobby shook his head, wondering about what kind of damage that girl was going to cause before she was gone.

"What was that?" Dean asked abruptly. Bobby could hear the edge in Dean's voice and knew that Dean had slipped back into hunter mode, tense and alert, ready for whatever new hell they were going to have to fight their way out of this time. He probably had the key in the ignition already, ready to come speeding back to Bobby's, guns blazing and ready to kill whatever posed a threat this week.

Sighing, Bobby shook his head, a fond smile pulling at his lips. That boy was loyal to a fault; ready to defend the people he cared about without knowing all the facts first. Again, something his damned father was responsible for. That man hadn't raised sons; he had made solders. "It's nothin'", Bobby replied. "just Hope reminding me she's here".

He knew she was doing it on purpose, as though if she didn't make enough noise he would forget she was even there. It was patronising and made him feel old, older than he was. Half the time she was stumbling around like a bull in a china shop, making as much noise as a human possibly could, while the rest of the time she moved as silently as the dead. Well the dead that stayed dead and in the ground anyway.

Dean mumbled something that even Bobby couldn't understand but sounded suspiciously like it was probably an insult of some kind. He was just about to call Dean on it, demand to know what he was mumbling about, but Dean got there first. "Sleeping beauty here is pretty much out of it, so we're gonna get a motel room for the day. Should be back at yours by nightfall", he stated.

Fighting the urge to laugh at Dean, Bobby shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't going to see those boys for at least thirty-six hours, if not longer. Sure, they would find a motel, get some rest but he knew Dean. Knew that he would insist on heading to a bar first, a celebratory drink he would call it. Except that one drink would turn into ten and Sam would just sit there and watch his brother drink himself into a stupor, until he was too drunk to keep himself in check.

Dean would either hit on the wrong girl or say something he shouldn't to a guy that wasn't as drunk as him and just itching for a fight. Dean had a bad attitude and a big mouth to boot and he never knew when to keep it shut. His mouth had gotten him into more trouble over the years than Bobby could remember and it had only gotten worse as Dean started to drink more. Dean was growing far too dependent on the bottle, just like his daddy had been towards the end.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Bobby sank back into the chair. He had wanted a lot of things for those boys over the years, many of which that had never come to pass but he had never wanted them to end up like their father.

It wasn't that he hated John, the boys' father had had his good qualities. He had been dedicated, loyal, determined to protect those he cared about, but he had been as stubborn as an old mule, a mean drunk, and so focused on avenging Mary that he often forgot he had children in his life. It was no secret that he wouldn't have won any father of the year awards.

He had made his boys into solders, condemning them to this life without a second thought and now they were just like him; Dean more so than Sam. They had both inherited his stubbornness and Bobby had lost count of the amount of times he had to pull the two of them apart, before an argument could turn into a fist fight, because neither of them would back down.

Knowing that neither of them would listen to him, as he tried to reason with them Bobby did the only other thing he could, the same thing he always did. "You boys be careful", he said.

Dean huffed out a half-hearted laugh, the rough sound seeming to echo around Bobby's skull. "Always are". Those two words said with so much false bravado were the last thing Dean said before the line went dead, Dean not giving Bobby a chance to chew his ear off about the blatant lie.

Placing the phone down on the table, Bobby eased back into his chair, gazing out the window as he let the last ten minutes sink in. The sun was just starting to rise, the rays of light bouncing off of rusty metal and broken glass. The house was quiet, the only sound the early morning wind as it swirled around the house, rattling the windows as it gusted strongly every so often.

Damn it, he was getting too old for this shit. At his age he should be retired, sleeping in, and spending his nights reading by the fire. Not spending every waking moment running after monsters and digging through ancient texts.

His anger softened somewhat as he began to long for a time when he could just rest, just pretend that this life was as simple as it seemed at first glance, and well, if that was only possible when he was dead, then so be it. Him and death were old friends, had courted each other in the past and Bobby would welcome him with a weary smile but willing all the same. He knew what happened to people when they ran away from their reapers and he had no desire to ever end up like that, to be the monster instead of the hunter.

"Smells good". In one quick move Bobby yanked out the sawed off shot gun he kept strapped under the table, because being a hunter made you paranoid and all that, and spun round, pointing the gun at the doorway from where the voice had come.

Hope was leaning against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed over her chest and the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her elbows, exposing her lower arms and the spattering of scars that covered her tanned skin. She was smiling at him, green eyes sparkling with amusement. She looked as cocky and carefree as she had the first time she had walked through his door.

"God dammit girl I could'v killed ya". Bobby's angry words echoed around the small room, as he spun back around in his chair, slamming the gun down on the table next to his phone. Hope's gentle laughter filled the air as he sat there silently fuming, hands curled up into tight fists on top of the table.

How had he not heard her walking down the stairs? Every other step creaked and the floorboards at the bottom of the stairs screeched if you so much as breathed on them. He should have heard her coming. That's what he got for daydreaming.

Bobby's head jerked up when the chair opposite him scraped against the floor as it was pulled back. Hope dropped down into the chair still smiling at him, her eyes briefly darting towards the gun before snapping down to the plate of food in front of her. Snatching up a slice of bacon she took a large bite. Her eyes widened, in what Bobby could only call wonder, before they slammed closed, her moan of delight sounding loud in the quiet room. Her reaction made Bobby huff out an amused breath, because he knew for damn sure his cooking wasn't that good.

Picking up her fork, she began shovelling food into her mouth, barely finishing what she was eating before shoving another lot in. She ate like she was starved, like she had never experienced this kind of food before. "S' good". He could only just understand what she was saying around the mouthful of food. Shaking his head Bobby, picked up his own fork and tucked into his breakfast.

They sat in silence, the only noises were the scrape of metal against china and the small moans of satisfaction Hope made as she demolished everything on her plate. It was strange having someone else here, who wasn't pouring over old texts or cleaning guns. It was stranger still that it was a young woman that sat across from him. It had been so long since he had had female company that he had almost forgotten what it was like to have a woman in his home. Almost.

He could still remember those long forgotten Sunday mornings, when the sun had been shining and the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, coaxing him from his sleep and pleading for him to come down stairs. When he finally stumbled down the stairs he would always find Karen in the kitchen, humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio as she moved around the small room, practically dancing as she pulled ingredients from cupboards and utensils from drawers, baking everything from bread to cakes to pies on those lazy Sunday mornings.

He would always sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest as he placed gentle kisses along the slope of her neck. And she would always stop what she was doing to turn and smile brightly up at him before kissing him gently on the lips. Oh God, he missed her, missed that life.

"So I take it I passed your little inquisition?" Bobby's eyes flickered back up to Hope. At some point, during his little walk down memory lane, his eyes had darted over towards the window so he could stare unseeingly out into the yard. Taking a deep breath he tried to refocus on the girl in front of him.

The bright amusement had faded from her eyes leaving them soft and understanding. He couldn't help the strange feeling he had that she had known about the dangerous path his thoughts had been heading along and she was offering him a way out. A lifeline of sorts, because that was a dangerous road to be going down, and who knew if he would ever come back from it, if he let his mind wander too far. It was almost as if she could read his mind but that wasn't possible, right?

But Bobby had seen a lot of things in his life that he had once thought impossible. That thing with Sam, and all those other kids alone made mindreading seem more likely than anything else. He made a quick mental note to look into the possibility more, later, once everything was calmer. Hope's lips quirked slightly, a knowing glint briefly lighting up her eyes before disappearing.

Shoving his curiosity to one side, Bobby placed his cutlery down onto the table. What could he say? _Yes you passed but Dean still doesn't trust you as far as he could throw your bloody corpse?_ Yeah that would go down well. Almost as well as the revolution had. So for once, he took a leaf out of Dean's book and went with lying till it seemed like truth.

"Course you did, you idjit", he grumbled. As soon as the words left his mouth all emotion drained from Hope's face, her bright eyes becoming cold and hard. This was it, the moment Bobby had been waiting for since the boys had dumped her on his doorstep. She was finally going to get angry, start yelling and throwing around accusations. She was going to call him out for treating her like a suspect, a monster even and all she had done was save those boys' dumb asses and now, she was going to take her anger out on the nearest person. They deserved it. Lord knew they had treated her worse than they should have, especially Dean.

Slowly, she placed her arms on the table giving Bobby a quick glimpse of black ink on tanned skin, something that looked a lot like a sun with a star inside. His eyes were drawn away from the dark, mark and back up to her eyes once more as she leaned forward, hiding the inside of her wrist from him.

She looked so serious, so cold that he could almost feel the sting of her harsh words already. He hadn't been worried about someone's opinion of him for a long time but there was something about this girl that made him hold his breath and hope that she would understand, wouldn't judge him and the Winchesters for the way life had made them. He looked away from her cool gaze.

"Does that mean I can leave?", she asked.

Shocked, Bobby snapped his head up slightly so he was looking Hope dead in the eyes, his own eyes widening in disbelief. He couldn't help it, that hadn't been the question he was expecting and her words had taken him by surprise. Hope raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, and before he could stop himself he was nodding his head slightly, a mumbled 'yeah' falling from his lips.

As soon as the word was past his lips, all hostility vanished from Hope and she was smiling once again. In one quick move, she pushed herself away from the table and up out of her chair. "Finally", she said, satisfaction evident in her voice. She was across the room in a few quick strides, yanking her shirtsleeves down as she went.

As she made her way past the door, she yanked her jacket down from where it had been slung over the top and hurriedly pulled it on. Bobby hadn't even noticed the jacket until she had lifted it off the door, hadn't even noticed it when she had been leaning against the door just minutes ago.

This lack of observation was worrying. Didn't it mean he was losing his touch, his skill? He knew what happened to hunters when they got too old and still tried to carry on as if nothing had changed. The job got you one way or another, it always did, and he suffered no delusion that he would be any different.

With a quick wink, and a wide smile thrown in his direction, Hope spun around the doorframe and disappeared into the hallway. "See ya around, Mr Singer", she called out, sounding far too happy for her own good.

Seconds later, the front door slammed shut and once again he was alone in his home, but, after just a day with the whirlwind of life that was Hope Wesson, the house now seemed empty and quiet, like the spark of life had gone out.

Bobby sat there unmoving, for what felt like ages but, in reality, was only a short few minutes, just staring out through the doorway and into the dark hallway. Desperately he tried to get his perplexed mind around what had just happened.

He had just let her go, didn't even attempt to stop her or even find out where she was going. He had just sat there, and stared dumbly, as she made her escape as quickly as she could. He didn't blame her. If he had been in the girl's position he would have made a run for it as soon as he had the chance.

No, what he couldn't understand was why she had waited for him to figure out who she was first. She had stayed willingly, never once making an attempt to leave or even convince him to let her go. She had just sat there patiently, letting him get on with pulling her life apart, without so much as a huff of annoyance. He just couldn't understand it, couldn't understand her.

Slumping back into his chair, Bobby let his eyes slip closed. He felt tired, so very, very tired. Tired of having to spend his every waking moment chasing monsters around the states, of always being suspicious of everyone, just tired of his life.

Maybe he was getting too old to be doing this constantly. His mind wasn't as sharp anymore, not as quick off the mark as he used to be. It was inevitable really that one day he would have to stop before he got himself killed, or even worse got someone else killed, but he knew he just couldn't give up on the boys like that.

Half the time they needed him to mediate between the two of them, and really, at their ages, they shouldn't be arguing as much as they did. Though, he supposed it didn't help that they had practically been living in each other's pockets for most of their lives. But their ages didn't change the fact that those boys needed him and that meant he would try to keep on fighting alongside them till the day he died.

Letting his eyes slowly flicker open, Bobby took one look around the small room and sighed. He really couldn't be bothered to tidy up any time soon. He had at least another day before the boys turned up, so it could wait till after he had finally managed to get some sleep.

Slowly, he dragged his heavy body from the chair and out of the room, leaving everything where it was, including his phone and gun. The stairs creaked under his weight as he made his way up to his room, the sound echoing around the open space. As he stepped on a particularly loud one, his mind drifted back to Hope and the mysteries that seemed to surround her, but most of all her need to leave so suddenly.

It was suspicious to say the least and the way she had just disappeared without an explanation was even stranger. She was a hunter; she knew the importance of someone else knowing where you were and where you were going.

She had to be going somewhere important, meeting someone, and Bobby would have to try and find out who it was. One way or another he would try to find out her most hidden secrets.

(SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNS PNSPN)

The door slammed shut behind her, the screen squeaking loudly in the early morning silence, as it swung closed. Quickly, Hope jumped down the steps, desperate to get as much space between her and the Singer house as quick as humanly possible. As soon as her feet had hit gravel she was off, walking as fast as she could without flat out running.

She hadn't known how much longer she would have been able to stay in that house without Bobby finally noticing that something wasn't quite right. Before he could figure out that she was seeing something other than what was going on around her.

Chancing a glance down at her trembling hands, Hope had to bite down hard on her lips to stop the disgusted sob that was threatening to burst free. Her tanned skin was covered in thick, almost black tendrils. It was as if every vein in her body was being pumped full of liquid fire and causing her veins to swell, pushing against her skin until they stood out like someone had drawn them on with a marker pen.

She had been though this enough times to know that if she should bother to look in a mirror she would see that same marks all over her skin, slowly burning her alive from the inside. The disease tearing through her body and mind.

She had known she had been pushing her luck, going after the Winchesters like that, but she was invested in their futures and she couldn't have them dying before she had the chance to get what she needed from them. So she had used up the last of her power reserve to save their sorry asses and they would never know she had even been there. Not that she was bitter about it or anything, just pissed that Dean was still going to look at her like she was the scum of Hell when she had actually saved his life _twice_ already in the short time she had been here.

Sighing, Hope shoved her hands deep into her pockets, refusing to look at anything that wasn't the road in front of her. Her resolve to ignore her body lasted for all but a minute before her hunger started to claw at her throat once again, worming its way into her mind.

Gods, she was hungry, starving for it even. She hadn't been like this since she was sixteen and practically salivating for the next kill, already planning it before she had even finished with the one she was on. But then again, she hadn't gone this long without eating since she was in her teens and had been trying to kick the habit. Needless to say it hadn't gone well for her.

Clenching her jaw tightly, and growling softly at her own stupid mind for being stuck on the one thing that was making all this so much more worse than it needed to be, Hope quickened her steps, desperate to get off of Bobby's land and clear of all the anti-demon charms he had set up around his property, as well as getting out of sight of the myriad of security cameras he had set up. The old man was paranoid way beyond what she had been led to believe.

Desperately trying to distract herself from the all consuming hunger that clawed at the inside of her skull, Hope thought back to the night before and the amount of work it had taken to clear her good name.

As soon as the Impala had disappeared down the drive, Hope had grabbed her bags and headed straight for the panic room, knowing that was where Dean intended her to spend the majority of her stay. Bobby had followed her down, just watching her lay there. He looked so confused that she had taken mercy on him and made an off-hand remark that intended to annoy him and he had stormed off back up the stairs. Finally, she was alone.

She had found it hard not to laugh as Bobby slid the heavy lock into place in a vain attempt to keep her locked away, very much like the prisoner she was supposed to be. Locks hadn't been a problem for her since she was thirteen, even ones on the opposite side of the door to her.

Once she heard Bobby turning on his own ancient computer, Hope was across the room and pulling her own laptop from her bag. It was brand new, still had its protective plastic over it. She had never had one before and had made sure to get the best one she could from the store. The young man behind the counter had been so helpful, setting it up for her and showing her how to use it. She had almost felt bad when he had unknowingly handed it over free of charge and completely untraceable; almost but not quite.

It hadn't taken her long to hack into all the appropriate government and private sites, changing small facts here and there to set up a story that no one, not even the best hunters, would be able to spot as false. After all, just because she had never had her own computer didn't mean she didn't know her way around one.

She had used a real family and their tragic demise as a starting point, only needing to change a few basic details like names and dates, hair colour stuff like that. After that it had gotten more complicated. Trying to figure out who Bobby would call first had been a nightmare, and trying to get there before the call came through had been even worse but she had pulled it off, only cutting it close once or twice.

The altering of people's memories had been the easiest thing she had done so far. Just a simple nudge here and there and they couldn't tell the difference between real and fabricated. It was as simple as pie, child's play.

She had been told, a long time ago, to only lie when it was absolutely necessary and then to only make it little lies, so you could keep track of what was true and what was make-believe. So she had used little snippets of her own tragic life, making sure not to give away too much but enough that her story would seem convincing.

By the time she had made it back to Bobby's, she had been exhausted, the hunger just starting to gnaw at the edges of her mind but she had just shoved it aside and made her way upstairs, waiting to see Bobby's reaction to what he had 'found' in the last three hours.

Sighing, Hope sped up as the gates to the property finally came into view. The world around her was shifting, changing into something that most people would call a nightmare. But she wasn't most people.

The sky was as red as blood, dark black clouds rolling in from the south and flashing with sharp bolts of lightning. The ground beneath her was trembling, huge cracks ripping their way through the dried earth. A scorching heat radiated from the depths of the earth, threatening to melt her skin from her bones. Panicking now, she took off running, a taunting laugh as familiar to her as her own voice ringing through the air.

She had been through this before, recognised the world around her but she had always had someone with her, to ground her. To pull her back from the brink of madness and remind her of who she was. But he was gone now and she was alone for the first time in years.

She missed him, oh Gods how she missed him. His not-quite smile, his serious blue eyes that never just looked at you but through you, into your very soul, and the matter of fact way he spoke. She guessed what they said was true. You never know what you have until it's long gone and way out of your reach.

Pulling in a deep breath, Hope tried to push away the thoughts of what was and what could never be. She just needed to eat and then all this would go away and she could get back to what mattered, her true purpose in this life.

Bursting through the open gates, Hope skidded to a halt. Everything had gone silent, the apocalyptic world that had surrounded her, just moments ago, blinking out of existence. Fields stretched on for miles all around her, the sun now fully above the horizon and shining brightly. A light dew covered the green grass causing it to sparkle in the early morning sun. Birds could be heard chirping away in the trees as a gentle breeze softly swayed the branches. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen in decades. Would probably be the last truly beautiful thing she would ever see.

Sighing in contempt, Hope let herself relax, a gentle smile tugging at her lips as she began to slowly make her way towards the town. It was moments like these that she could almost forget who she was and where she was from. Could almost forget the unforgivable things she had done and was going to do for years to come. Almost.

But she was what she was and, for the first time since she had shoved the unconscious Winchesters into the back of their car, she felt free. Free to breathe, to enjoy the world. Free to be herself. She was what she was and Hope wouldn't have it any other way.

Hope laughed gently as she became more and more giddy with every step she took. The sound of feathers ruffling were barely heard as the wind picked up, shaking the leaves and howling at the sky. In a heartbeat she was gone, the road once again void of any sign of life. The soft sound of her gentle laughter fading away into the wind the only proof that she had been there at all.


	14. Dinner Is Cheap

A/N: So here we are guys the next chapter. As always I don't own anything to do with Supernatural no matter what I with. Thank again to the fabulous Ciar for being my beta. Hope you guys like this and please please review. Thanks for sticking with me guys.

xox

**Dinner Is Cheap When You're On The Menu**

Blinding, body-shattering pain was the first thing he registered when he finally came back round, closely followed by a gut-wrenching stab of emptiness. Panic flooded through him, pushing the pain to the back of his mind, as he desperately tried to remember what had happened before the world had gone dark.

He had been hanging around outside some dive bar in Texas - where in Texas he didn't know, it wasn't that important - waiting for this sweet, little blonde thing to come out. He had been working her for almost a month now, flirting and even playing hero to her damsel in distress. By this stage, she was putty in his hands, practically swooning every time she saw him and that was exactly how he liked them: all trusting and compliant. It just made the pain and suffering so much sweeter when they couldn't understand why such a nice, caring person would commit such horrors against them.

He had been watching as she slipped out through the side exit, happy and smiling brightly as she parted ways with her work colleges. She had looked innocent, almost childlike, as she waved goodbye; tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, her simple white blouse standing out in stark contrast to her deep blue jacket. He had just been about to make himself known, slip out of the shadows and flash her his most menacing grin, when his skin had started to tingle. The feeling of someone's gaze boring into the back of his head sent shivers down his spine: _he_ was the one who watched people, it wasn't the other way around.

He barely had the time to register movement behind him before his skull erupted with blinding pain. His cry of distress was muffled as he collapsed to the ground, his fingers clutching feebly as if they refused to give up on the intense urge to yank and wrench at the blonde hair of this evening's chosen playmate. Heedless of his urges, darkness consumed him quickly as the pain in his head spiked and his voice gave out on him.

The pain had been excruciating and like nothing he had known before. He had thought he was being ripped from the body he had claimed as his own, the way his very essence had quaked with fear, but it seemed he had been wrong. Now it was just him here, minus the pathetic thing humans called a soul that had inhabited this meat-sack before he moved in. It was strange being alone now, after so many years of having to share this shell with another slotted in beside him. He had grown used to the background noise of the original owner's constant screams and sobs as he begged to be set free; it had been pathetic really. But now it was quiet, so very quiet.

'Feeling lonely?'

At the sound of the gentle, playful voice he snapped his head up, eyes opening for the first time since he had awoken. He didn't know what he had been expecting but to find himself in almost total darkness was not it. From what he could make out, the room was large enough, the edges shrouded in shadows that obscured the speaker from his searching eyes. The floor was concrete, that much he could tell, and the walls were probably brick. He couldn't imagine his captor taking him anywhere that would allow people to find them, let alone hear him scream. The air in the room smelled like blood and dust, an odd combination but, then again, most of the places he went reeked like death and blood. Proof that he was a classy guy and knew how to show a dame a good time, well…a good enough time until he got bored with her anyway.

Deciding that he wasn't in the mood for these sorts of games, he went to stand up, his aborted movements causing him to realize that he was bound to the chair. He pulled against his restraints as he glared at the thick rope that had been wound around his exposed wrists and ankles, lashing him in place. The rope had been pulled tight, the coarse weave of the bindings digging painfully into his skin. The flesh of his wrists and ankles was covered in blood, the skin burned black and already beginning to scab over. Haw long had he been out? He knew of only one thing that could burn him in that way: Holy Water.

Groaning, he let his head fall back. The light overhead made his vision spotty and blurred for a second before it cleared. The sole source of light in the room, the naked bulb hanging above him, illuminated only the small area around him and cast the rest of the room in shadows. But it was what surrounded the swinging light that had him letting out a huff of annoyance and slumping down into the chair as much as he could. A devil's trap was painted on the ceiling above him, the thick red lines standing out in sharp contrast against the dirty and crumbling plaster. Squinting at the still slightly glistening paint, he let out a small chuckle as realisation dawned on him. He knew where the smell of blood was coming from now.

'Forgive the crudeness,' the unseen speaker continued. 'Didn't quite have time to pop down to the store, so had to make do with what I had.'

Letting his head roll forward, he glared at the patch of darkness from where he thought the smug, self-satisfied voice had come. Damned hunters were almost as bad as demons with their flair for the dramatics. Always wanting to put on a show, to prove how much better they were than demons, when the delicious reality was that in ten or twenty years, when they had been sent to the deepest, darkest depths of Hell - where all 'good' hunters went to suffer through eternity - and their hearts had been ripped out, they would end up exactly where he was now. Getting their ass handed to them by some smug, idiotic hunter that didn't quite understand that every road to Hell was paved with the broken and tainted souls of once proud and righteous men.

'And here I thought it was paved with good intentions. Must've heard wrong,' the voice drawled.

He jerked his head up, as that amused voice filled the air around him once more, his eyes wide and full of panic. The speaker had read his mind. That wasn't possible, not even an option in the game show of life.

'Oh, but it is.' That sweet, playful voice echoed around the room, seeming to come from every possible angle to surround him, completely inescapable.

Full-on panicking now, he yanked at his restraints in a desperate attempt to get free. The rope dug deeper into his already abused and broken skin, the rough material rubbing against his raw and bloody wrists as he continued to thrash around in his chair in a futile effort to escape. Futile because it didn't matter if he got free from the rope, he would still be stuck in the devils trap, unable to flee and unable to truly defend himself.

'STOP!'

As soon as the word filled the air, he froze, unable to even twitch his fingers let alone move any of his limbs, in spite of how much he willed them to. Growling low and menacingly, he yelled out into the darkened room, his anger and panic clearly showing as his voice wavered slightly, 'Show yourself!'

Suddenly, the world around him went silent. He could no longer hear the wind outside, as it swirled around the building, nor his own laboured breaths. It was as silent as Death himself, sending shivers down his spine and leaving him feeling sick to his very core. Normally, he was all for games and very much in favour of screwing around with your prey, until they didn't know which way was up and which way was down, but this? No, he had already had enough of this particular game. He was going to rip that bitch's throat out the moment he could get his hands on her. He would make her beg for mercy.

'Try it.'

His body jerked as the harsh-sounding words were whispered against his ear, her hot breath ruffled his hair, and his body went rigid, his eyes going impossibly wide. Quickly, he snapped his head to the side as he tried to look behind him, desperate to get a glimpse of his captor, but all that greeted him was gentle laughter and empty shadows.

'How does it feel?' she asked.

Snapping his head back round, he got his first look at his captor, finally catching sight of a face to go along with that stupidly smug voice. She was sitting in a simple, high-backed, wooden chair. Her body language utterly casual as she stared at him: she had one elbow resting against the chair's arm, her hand curled against her cheek, thumb resting under her chin and her pointer finger pressed against the side of her face with the fingertip just resting against the corner of her eye.

She looked young, still in her twenties he would guess. Her long, dark hair, which was curled slightly at the ends, flowed down over her shoulders. What he could see of her skin looked tanned, like she had spent her life outside in the sun. Maybe she was from California, although the fact that she was wearing plaid didn't seem to fit with that theory. The sleeves of her plaid shirt were rolled up to her elbows, exposing soft skin and slender-looking wrists. He could imagine them wound tight with rope and hoisted above her head. Or maybe handcuffs would be better. She would look so delectable with the shimmering, silver metal digging deep into her sun-kissed skin, maybe even splattered with blood, the droplets sparkling like rubies.

She was annoyingly pretty, just his type actually, and he wanted to do the most wicked things to her. He wanted to spread her out and cut her open, listen to her scream as he ripped out her insides and set fire to her bleeding carcass.

He noticed the anti-possession tattoo on her left wrist, the black ink standing out against her skin as though the mark was fresh, the ink looked as dark as his soul. As soon as he saw the tattoo, she shifted in the chair, her posture becoming more rigid as her arm lowered to rest her hand flat against the arm of the chair. She began to draw idle patterns against the wood with her fingertips.

Taking a deep breath he licked at his suddenly dry lips. He could feel uneasiness beginning to surface inside him, lapping at the edges of his consciousness. He hadn't felt any form of nervousness since the day he made his deal with the crossroads demon and that had been well over a century ago.

'How does what feel, exactly?' he responded, his parched throat making his voice sound low and rough. Tilting his head down, he looked at the young woman through his eyelashes. He had been told many times before, admittedly it had been mostly by the women he ended up killing, that this body had beautiful eyes. Women had called his eyes crystal clear and innocent, mesmerising even. Stupid, dumb bitches didn't have a clue. He tried to keep the tone of his voice sounding bored and unimpressed, sarcastic even, with a hint of charm thrown in for good measure, but from the way her lips quirked at the edges he knew she had heard his worry bleed through.

'Being toyed with,' she replied. Her voice was calm, gentle even, as she looked at him expectantly. Her green-eyed gaze fixed on him like she could bore a hole right through him with it.

For the first time in many a decade, he felt trapped. He couldn't move any of this body from the neck down, couldn't even twitch his fingers. No one knew where he was, not that he made a habit of letting anyone keep tabs on his whereabouts, and, on top of all that, he was developing a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to be getting out of this situation alive. Well, if you could actually call being a demon living.

'Whatever gets you off sweetheart,' he drawled, winking at her as he flashed her his biggest grin.

Her mouth twitched slightly, a small smile lighting up her features. 'That's funny,' she smirked. She was full-on smiling now, taunting him, and he couldn't have that, wouldn't stand for it from any human meat-puppet but particularly not from a woman.

'Why don't you get that tight, little ass of yours over here and I'll show what being toyed with _really_feels like,' he purred. The low, seductive tone of his voice sounded attractively convincing to his well-practised ear, but she didn't even seem to notice. Didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken.

Darting his gaze around the shadowed space, he looked desperately for any sign of an exit or for something that he could use to help him escape. Anything that would let him get away from this hunter-woman before she had a chance to send him back down to the Pit. He may have been a demon, and he may have been born in the Pit, but that did not mean he ever wanted to go back there.

A slight movement in the corner of his eye pulled his gaze back to his captor, just in time to see her sinking back into the chair and getting comfortable. She looked so relaxed, so at ease, like this scenario was completely normal for her.

His own neglected thoughts slammed back to the forefront of his mind. What if this actually _was_ normal for her? He had never heard of a hunter that could read minds, hadn't even heard a whisper about one that liked to play mind-games before she got down to the exorcism. Not in the last decade anyway and this woman was far too young to have been knocking around that long. It didn't mean it wasn't possible though; didn't mean that his kind hadn't stumbled across her before. But, if they had, surely some demon would have marked her on the list of souls to be broken, to be ripped apart, and desecrated.

'David, right?' she asked, knowingly, smug smile and all. 'Well…that's what that meat-suit of yours is called but he's long gone by now, so why don't you tell me your name, hmm? Your _true_ name, that is, if you can even remember it.'

The request threw him. It had been so long since he had even _thought_ of his human name, let alone used it or been called by it, that he realised it had been an effort for him to remember it.

Her green eyes narrowed, that smug smile growing even wider than before. She knew she had hit a nerve.

Growling menacingly, he barked out the first thing that came to mind, anger lacing every word that fell from his lips, 'Go to Hell!' How dare she speak to him in such a way, treat him with so little respect. He was going to get free and he would take so much pleasure in ripping her apart, slowly, limb by limb. He would make her scream and beg until she was nothing but an unrecognisable pile of flesh and bone on the floor.

'Been there. Done that. Got that fractured psyche to prove it,' she responded, calmly. 'Now, your name, _please_.' The last word was said with a commanding force that sunk deep into his mind and wrapped its claws around that almost-forgotten word, gripping it tightly and refusing to let go.

He gritted his jaw tight, his teeth grating against each other as he tried to fight against the urge to speak but it was like the word was being dragged out of him, balancing on the tip of his tongue until it started to hurt.

'WILLIAM…' he screamed at the woman in front of him. As soon as the word had left his mouth, the burning pressure that had been throbbing against the inside of his temples vanished, like it had never even been there. Slumping back into the chair, he let his head loll backwards, his eyes slipping closed. His body ached from where he had been straining against his bonds; the rope had cut deeper into his already bloody skin.

'Now that wasn't so hard, was it?' she asked, condescendingly.

Opening his eyes - he didn't even remember consciously when he had closed them - he glared at her with every ounce of rage he could muster. Oh Lucifer, he was going to ruin her, watch her choke on her own blood as he pulled out her heart. Once he was finished with her they wouldn't even be able to identify her with dental records.

Paying him no attention, she turned to her head to the side, something unseen to him catching her attention. Her smile slipped as she glared at the shadows. The slip only lasted a second before her head was snapping back round, devilish smirk in place, her eyes darkening as they fogund him once more. Something seemed different about her now, darker. He had felt the shift, her humanity not so prominent any more as something more sinister started to swallow it, like a shadow chasing away the light.

'William, can I call you Will?'

Glaring at her, and her irritatingly cheerful voice, William tried to remind himself that the worst thing she could do was send him back to the Pit. He had gotten out once, what was there to say he couldn't do it again? And, as far as anyone knew, the Winchesters were the only hunters that could actually kill a demon and that was only because they had that damn knife of theirs. However, he happened to know that the Winchesters were on the other side of the country right now, so he didn't have that to worry about.

'Yeah, sure, why not,' he drawled, sarcastically.

Impossibly, she smiled even wider, flashing him her pearly, white teeth. Her face looked like it might almost split in half from the smile and it had to be hurting her by now, maintaining that ridiculous expression. He wanted to smack it from her lips, preferably with the back of his hand. Her eyes were darker now; so dark they seemed almost black.

'So what's your name, sugar?' he asked. 'Need to know what to put on your tombstone.' He would carve it on the stone personally and make sure the world knew who had killed the crazy bitch.

She completely ignored his question, which had, admittedly, been more of a dig to try and get her to do something other than smile at him like she was a few fruit loops short of a bowl. Instead, she turned to once again look off into the shadows on her left, seemingly deep in thought.

Gritting his teeth, William growled loudly, the sound reverberating around the room, but the woman still paid him no mind. Obviously, the voices in her head were far more interesting than him, and that shouldn't piss him off as much as it did because every minute she spent off in her own mental la-la land was another minute he wasn't back in the Pit.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered as much will as he could and tried, once again, to tug his restraints loose but it was like his body had turned to stone. None of his limbs responded to his commands, his fingers remained frozen and curled around the arms of the chair. Mentally, he screamed at them to move, to twitch, to do something, but it was no use. The most he could do was turn his head and blink, say a few words, and hope she got this over with soon because he was really starting to get tired of this situation. There was only so long a guy could put up with the crazy hunter routine (something he had seen a hundred times already, since he'd clawed his way back up topside), before he wanted to stab himself in the eye with the nearest sharp object because, surely, gouging out an eye would be more entertaining than this shit.

The woman's head snapped back round, her dark eyes narrowing as she glared at him with a disdainful expression not all that different from the King of Hell's, though He was a lot more terrifying than the young woman in front of William, no matter what freaky tricks she had up her sleeves.

He felt her annoyance slam into him like a truck going 100mph down a wet road with no brakes to speak of. He could feel it curling around him until his skin started to itch. It pushed in on him, crushing him until he wanted to scream out into the night, but he wouldn't let himself. He couldn't give her the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain.

As suddenly as the pain had started, it stopped, disappearing as he pulled in a deep breath, the cool air stinging his throat as he gulped it down. With a soft sigh, the young woman's features softened, until she was smiling sweetly at him, looking very much like the innocent little girl she wasn't.

In a rather over-dramatic gesture, she smacked her hands down against the arms of her chair, the loud sound of skin slapping against wood filling the room. Putting all her weight on her hands, she pushed herself to her feet in one fluid move, the heels of her boots clicking against the concrete as they hit the floor. He couldn't help but watch her, almost entranced as she pushed a hand through her hair, shoving the long strands away from her face. For a split second her eyes slipped closed, her head tilted up slightly, an easy smile on her pale lips.

She looked so young, so delicate and all he wanted was to mess that all up, ruin her in the best ways and then the worst. He wanted to reduce her to a moaning, gasping, squirming, naked mess, begging for more. And then he wanted to peel off her skin and gouge out her eyes with a sharpened spoon. She would scream so pretty.

'Normally, I would take my time with things like this,' she said, her calm and playful voice pulling him away from his intoxicating thoughts and back to his captor. She was smiling brightly at him, her face still turned towards the ceiling but her eyes were open now, trained on him.

A shiver of anticipation rolled down his spine, setting his nerves on fire as he waited for what would come next.

Letting her head fall forward she turned to look directly at him, her eyes piercing through his meat-suit and deep into his twisted core, seeing everything he had ever done. He did not like it, being laid bare in this way.

Slowly, she made her way towards him, her heels clicking softly on the concrete floor with every step she took. Her voice was a strange mix of excitement and disappointment. 'I could make it last for hours, days even,' she purred. 'It would be such sweet torture and I could make you feel _so_ good, make all those little fantasies of yours come to life.'

Her eyes were bright, alight with excitement. It was like she was glowing - as though she could fill the room with a light that wanted to reach out to every dark corner - but couldn't penetrate the thick shadows that pushed in from the edges of the room, snapping and swirling around the light, crowding it back to where it had come from. With a soft sigh she came to a halt, teetering on the edge of the devils trap, her eyes darting up to the painted symbols and then back towards him, as she rocked on the balls of her feet slightly.

Everything snapped back to how it was before, as she let out a huff of annoyance. She wasn't glowing any more, and the shadows were no longer moving. Now that he wasn't so entranced by her, he couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Humans didn't glow and the only shadows that moved on their own were demons. He couldn't sense anything other than the two of them in the room. But, then again, she wasn't quite human. There was something else there, something tainting her and making it hard to get a good read of her. He had a horrible feeling he wasn't going to be around long enough to find out what she really was.

'But there just isn't time,' she mumbled down at the floor, her voice only just audible.

Tilting her head back, she looked up at the symbol painted on the ceiling. She stared at it for a long few minutes and he stared at her until he grew frustrated. He was just about to snap at her to get the hell on with whatever she had planned, when she started to speak, her voice soft and distant as she said, 'I don't like doing this, you know. It's not what I pictured when I fantasised about my future.'

Rolling his eyes at the sob story he was undoubtedly about to hear, William lolled his head to the side. Hunters were all the same, always trying to blame someone else for their misfortune. They should all just stop whining and go get drunk, have nasty, kinky sex with someone half their age and then get in a fist-fight, maybe even kill someone. He could guarantee they would feel ten times better afterwards.

Turning her gaze back to him, she smiled brightly, her voice once again back to that annoying, upbeat tone. 'But hey, destiny's a bitch right?' She winked at him, wiggling her eyebrow suggestively at him.

He couldn't help but laugh at her. 'Are you bipolar?' he scoffed. She had to be, or else she had a split personality or something like that, because something clearly wasn't right with this girl.

Laughing gently at his words, she shook her head, shorter strands of her dark hair falling across her eyes once again. Sighing, she glared at her hair and brought her hand up to shove the wayward strands out of her face. As her hand moved, something caught the light, shimmering slightly. It wasn't until her hand fell back to her side that he even noticed the knife she had clasped in her hand. The metal was shining softly in the dim light, the knife's blade clearly having been polished recently. He wondered if maybe that was what she had been doing whilst she waited for him to come to, but the thought quickly vanished when he finally got a good look at the knife.

The top of the blade was straight before it curved downwards towards the tip. The bottom was a jagged row of razor sharp teeth that straightened out at the tip, but it was the words scrawled across the middle of the blade that had his eyes widening, as panic truly started to set in.

It wasn't possible, not even probable. Those dim-wit Winchesters were supposed to be the only ones with a weapon like that and, by all accounts, they guarded their demon-killing blade fiercely. He couldn't imagine that they would give something that powerful to someone else. According to everything he knew, it just wasn't possible for another one to exist, but he could see it as clear as day. He knew his fate now.

'This is going to hurt,' she stated, bluntly.

His wide, panic-filled eyes snapped back up to hers as she spoke, her words breaking whatever trance he had been in. She was looking at him directly again but her eyes were nothing more than black pools of nothingness now. Now that he was confronted with it, he could feel the demon inside of her like a physical blow to the stomach. But that still wasn't quite right. There was something else there, something more. She wasn't a demon, well not completely anyway, there was something more crowding around the small slither of humanity that he could feel rolling around inside of her, but he couldn't tell what.

Taking a step forward she flexed the knife in her hand, pulling his attention back to the _thing_ that could kill him.

'You're going to kill me.' It wasn't a question. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the young woman in front of him. If he had thought it was possible, he would have said she looked almost sad.

'Yes.' The whispered word sounded loud in the silence, cutting through the quietness like a hot knife through butter.

He had expected to feel panic, anger, hate, maybe even a little excitement as he struggled to get free, but all he truly felt was mind-numbing acceptance. This was going to happen, no matter what he said or did. He was trapped, unable to move, unable to defend himself. He was going to die. After decades of paying the price for a childish wish, he was finally going to be free. Free of this life, free of hell, free of his contract.

'Who are you?' he asked, his voice just as soft as hers had been. He wanted to know the name of the person who was going to execute him, before it was too late.

Frowning down at him, she inched closer until her legs were pushing against his. In one quick move she swung a leg over his and, slowly, sank down onto his lap. Eyes wide he watched as she moved the knife to her right hand, and, once her left hand was free, she brought her palm up to rest against his cheek in a tender gesture, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against the soft skin.

He wanted to jerk away, wanted to scream for her to get off him but he found himself unable to do anything but stair into her eyes, trapped in the dark pools.

'It's not _who_ I am that you should be worrying about,' she whispered, softly.

Slowly, she slipped her hand back, running her fingers into his hair, her palm resting against the top of his cheek. Shifting slightly in his lap, she brought her other hand up until the jagged edge of the blade was resting against his jugular. The metal was cold as it dug into his skin. He could feel a small drop of blood sliding down his throat and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. His mind flashed with a brief thought of 'well that's not going to come out' before everything, but this moment and what it was leading up to, vanished from his mind.

He was breathing deeply, his eyes slamming closed in a vain attempt to hide from those bottomless pits she called eyes. This was it, he was about to die and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

'Now _what_ I am, well…that's a whole different matter,' she whispered, seductively, her voice cutting through the silence.

Before he could even react, the blade was yanked across his throat, the skin splitting open and his blood gurgling over the edge of the wound. His mouth fell open as a silent scream of pure agony was ripped from him, as a hungry mouth closed around the wound and sucked deeply, pulling more of his blood from his protesting body. He heard a faint clattering, it could have been the blade falling to the floor but it was hard to be sure over the sound of his own pained sobs.

It hurt, _oh fuck,_ it hurt. Blunt teeth dug into torn skin, a probing tongue worked its way deep into the wound and forced it open, ripping the skin and making the flow of blood greater. The woman moaned in pleasure, sucking harder as she pushed her body tight against his, her fingers curling until she had a fist full of his hair. She yanked his head to the side; opening the wound up more and giving herself more room suck desperately at his flesh.

He felt weak, like she was sucking the energy right out of him, and she probably was. He didn't know how much more he could take, or even if he would survive much longer. All he knew was that it hurt and he would rather be dead right now than living through this. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull, the world around him going foggy. No, he didn't suppose he had long at all.

She growled against his blood-covered skin, shoving her face harder against his neck, desperate to get every last drop from him. He couldn't have that much more left to give her, his pulse was becoming slow and almost unnoticeable.

As he finally began to slip into darkness, a bright pain shot through his skull. Burning, his head was burning. He could smell it, the unmistakable stench of skin and fat being heated beyond the norm, almost like bacon. He could feel the intense heat against his temple and then suddenly it wasn't just his head. It was inside of him, twisting around the blackened remains of his soul, burning him up from the inside. Screaming out, his eyes shot open, frantically rolling around in their sockets as his own screams echoed around his skull. It was like no pain he had ever known, like no pain he had ever heard of, and it was only getting worse.

A bright, white light erupted behind his eyes, blinding him as the burning pain spiked. The now empty meat-suit, that he had called a body, slumped down as the soulless shell took its last ragged breath before its heart stopped.

With a loud gasp, Hope yanked her mouth away from the dead body's neck, throwing her head back to gaze unseeingly at the ceiling. Pulling in deep, gasping breaths, she tried to slow her frantically beating heart as it thumped loudly against her ribs, her blood rushing past her ears.

With a loud groan, she slumped forward, her head landing on the corpse's shoulder. Oh gods, she felt alive, she could feel the power thrumming through her veins, tingling in her fingers and curling around her mind. She felt like she could reach up and pull the stars from the sky or reach down and touch the molten core of the earth. She felt invincible. Finally, her breathing returned to normal and she let out a soft sigh. Turning her head, she nuzzled against William's neck, her tongue darting out to lap at the slowly drying blood that was seeping from the jagged wound.

Once the skin was clean, she pulled her head away, swiping her tongue across her blood-covered lips as she sat back up. She savoured the taste, rolling it round on her tongue like it was a fine wine, not that she had ever had wine; no one had access to that sort of thing in her time. The blood was tangy and left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. It tasted like all the sins of the world along with the desire to always commit them. It was disgusting and addictive all at the same time. It had once made her sick to her very core, but not now. She had spent far too many years being force-fed the stuff to have negative reactions to it any more.

Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from where they had been clutching tightly at the body beneath her. Her nails had ripped through the fabric of the man's white shirt, digging deep into the soft flesh of his arm. They came free with a soft squelch as blood started to ooze slowly from the five crescent-moon cuts she had left behind. Her left hand came away easily from his hair, a few strands of blond hair falling to the ground as she moved her hands to rest on his slumped shoulders.

Gently, she used the fingertips of her left hand to turn his head, giving herself a better look at the fresh scar she had left on the side of his temple. The bottom of her palm was as clear as day on the side of his face, her fingers disappearing into his hairline. She could make out every swirl, every line, even the small gap where her ring was. She had no doubt that the police of this time would be able to get a print from it but it would do them no good. She was in no database, no records held her name. She hadn't even been born yet.

Her thumbprint was burned across the top of his forehead, just brushing against his hairline, and she knew that if she even bothered to move his hair she would be able to see a mass of scared and mangled flesh from where her curled fingers had dug into his scalp and burned their mark into the skin. Sighing, Hope let her hands drop from his chin, both her hands sliding down to press gently against his chest. She didn't know why she left the mark behind, didn't even know how she did it, it had just always happened. Ever since she had taken her first hesitant gulp of body-warm blood. Leaving the mark seemed to be an automatic reaction to the lack of blood in whatever body she was draining. Subconsciously, she knew she had to kill whatever scum inhabited the body, leaving an empty shell behind, the soulless monstrosity only lasting a breath before it died too.

With a disgusted grunt, Hope pushed herself off of the dead man's lap and staggered to her feet, determinedly not looking at the bloody handprint she had left behind on his white shirt. She didn't need to see any more evidence that she was a monster. With a well-practiced, flamboyant gesture she flung her right arm up into the air, hand high above her head, and clicked her fingers as she walked away from the still warm body and back towards the chair she had vacated only a few minutes ago.

Lights snapped on all at once, bathing the warehouse in a hazy light. Letting her hand fall, she caught a glimpse of her blood-smeared skin and her stomach dropped, the realization of what she had just done sinking in.

With a strangled cry, Hope ran across what was left of the room, and headed straight towards the small, black door hidden away in the corner. Shoving it open with her shoulder, she flung herself at the grubby-looking sink, the faucet handles turning of their own accord and dirty water gushing from them with a rusty-sounding groan. Hope shoved her hands under the cold spray, frantically scrubbing at her blood covered skin, and scraping her nails over her skin as she desperately tried to get the demon's blood off.

No matter how frantically she scrubbed, she could still feel the blood, hot and sticky against her skin, the metallic tang filling the air and forcing its way down her throat. Oh gods, she felt sick. A loud, gargled groan filled the small room, the taps spluttering slightly as the muddy water turned a deep red, the cold liquid warming slightly as it hit her hands. With a startled gasp, Hope flung herself backwards, slamming into the doorframe with a loud thud. Blood ran thick and fast from the tap, splattering across the dull white porcelain. She could feel it dripping from her fingers, could hear the drops splashing against the floor, but, despite the growing horror that was welling up inside of her, she couldn't tare her eyes away, watching as it swirled down the drain.

Her heart thundered in her chest, beating so fast that she felt like it would give out at any moment and she would end up crumbling to the floor in a lifeless heap. It seemed fitting that fear would be the cause of her death; nothing else had managed to kill her yet.

This shouldn't be happening, couldn't be happening. She had fed; the hallucinations should have stopped the moment she took her first gulp of blood, so why the hell was she seeing this? Logically, she knew it was a hallucination, blood didn't run in the plumbing, even in her time. Knowing this didn't stop her from wanting to throw up though. Oh gods, why was this happening to her?

'Funny you should say that.'

All panic disappeared from Hope as soon as that familiar calm voice filled the air. Glaring at the sink, Hope shoved herself away from the wall, wiping her hands on her jeans as she took a step back towards the sink, glancing over her shoulder slightly. Of course it would be _him_; it was _always_ fucking him.

'Go away,' she snapped at the man leaning casually against the doorframe. Hope quickly twisted the faucet handles and the flow of blood-red water stopped with a loud groan. Spinning on her heels, Hope barged past the older man. He stepped back, moving out of her way, smirking at her as she quickly slipped past. Glaring at the floor, she stormed across the room, heading straight for the body that was lying slumped in the chair, its head lolling to one side.

'That wasn't very nice,' the new arrival called out to her in a sickeningly, cheerful, sing-song voice. His words echoing around the room made it impossible to tell if he was still standing where she had left him.

Without stopping to mentally prepare herself for the pain that was about to come, Hope pushed through the invisible barrier that flowed down from the devil's trap. Her skin burned, feeling like she was being stabbed all over by thousands of pins, each one laced with acid. She hated devil's traps. Standing inside one always sent a sharp stab of pain through her core, like a blade of ice being thrust into her soul and twisted. But, unfortunately, they were a necessary part of her line of work and she had been round them enough by now that she was good at hiding the discomfort she felt. No one would ever know how much the traps affected her and that was how she would like it to stay.

Sinking down onto her knees next to David's lifeless body, Hope shoved her hand into the pocket of his pants, looking for anything that could be considered useful in this time.

'Well, neither are you. So, hey, guess we're even,' she growled, in response to the newcomer's taunting. She didn't even bother to look up at him as she spoke, fervently willing him to just go away already.

Hope felt a small measure of triumph as she yanked out the dead man's wallet, the cracked and faded leather rectangle getting caught on the edge of his pocket before it slipped free. The leather was soft in her hands, worn down from years of rubbing against the cotton lining of his pocket. Flipping it open, Hope was confronted with a small plastic card that bore the man's photo and some of his basic information. She had seen these a thousand times before; she even had a small collection of the things. No, she had _had_ a small collection but they had been left behind, not important enough to bring with her.

Looking down at his date of birth, Hope wished she had just left the damn thing in his pocket. David Summers had been 19 years old. He had been so young, his whole life still ahead of him and it had all been taken away as soon as a demon had forced its way down his throat. He hadn't stood a chance, poor guy.

'They have those here, you know,' the newcomer drawled, interrupting her thoughts. 'Maybe you should consider getting one.'

Hope glared down at the photo of the pre-demon-possession David Summers and tried to ignore the man behind her as best she could. Thumbing the back of the wallet open, Hope pulled out the small wad of notes William had been carrying, going up on her knees to shove them into her back pocket.

'Stealing from a dead man; classy,' the irritant declared, sarcastically.

With a low growl, Hope snapped round, throwing the dead man's wallet at him, with considerable force, but it sailed right past him and hit the wall behind him with a dull thud. He hadn't even flinched, just stood there, calmly watching it come towards him. With a smirk she could only call sleazy, he pushed off the wall and started to walk towards her.

'Ugh', the disgusted noise Hope made sounded loud in the room and did nothing to deter him.

Turning back to the body, Hope shoved her hand into its other pocket, her fingers instantly closing around a cool, hard, plastic rectangle. Tugging it free, she stared down at the small device in her hand, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing along the side, the seam of the plastic digging into her skin slightly. She remembered these, had seen them scattered, broken and forgotten, amongst the debris of fallen buildings and burned-out cars. She knew that they were mobile phones, knew that people had used them to make calls and to talk to one another when they couldn't speak in person, she knew that much about them.

She hadn't seen a working one in well over a decade though. People didn't make calls that way in her time. To speak to someone who wasn't nearby, all you needed was a fresh pint of blood, and a bowl, and you were good to go. Simple really, and guaranteed to work every time.

'You should probably get one of those as well, while you're at it,' the annoying voice behind her suggested.

Hope sighed, slumping slightly, and turned her head so she could glare over her shoulder at the speaker. He had moved from his spot against the wall and was now lounging in the chair she had been sitting in a good few minutes ago. It worried her that he was sitting in pretty much the same position she had. He was leaning back casually, one elbow resting against the arm of the chair, his hand curled against his cheek with the thumb resting under his chin and his pointer finger pressed against the side of his face, the fingertip resting against the corner of his eye. He looked so damned smug, and far too comfortable, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and lips curled up into a smirk, taunting her.

Quickly, her eyes roamed over his body, taking in the pale skin stretched over firm muscles and the powerful thighs spread wide. A slight shadow of stubble covered his chin and his short, dirty-blond hair just screamed out to have her hands shoved into it and pulling at it.

Slamming down on her traitorous thought, Hope quickly flung her head back round, facing away from him. The phone clattered to the floor as she brought her hands up to cover her face. That whole train of thought was dirty and wrong, sickening even. It didn't matter what she had done in her past, she was _not_ going down that path ever again: even if it was just in her mind.

Letting her hands drop to the dead man's knees, she pushed herself up off the floor, tilting her head back to glare at the symbol above her. She should really get rid of it. All it would take was a simple snap of her fingers and it would be like it was never there. But, then again, she should also move the body, and try to make the dead man's passing seem a little more peaceful than it had been. It would be the right thing to do; it wasn't the young man's fault that a demon had chosen him to be a puppet. Demons forcibly take whatever they want, with no regard for the lives of those they choose. The young man, David, deserved to be put to rest properly; to be at peace. She had done it for the others, so why stop now?

'Because he was a useless, pathetic parasite and he deserved everything he got,' her companion's venomous voice filled the air, his words cutting into her thoughts like poisoned talons.

Something flickered through her mind, something dark and twisted that demanded her attention like a gun to the head. Humanity: pathetic, weak, mindless parasites that clung onto anyone or anything that thought themselves better than the herd. Dependent on Kings and Queens, gods and goddesses, never standing up for themselves, never taking responsibility's for their actions, just cowering at the feet of those who stood fearless and proud. It was still the same in her time, they were still snivelling cowards; a disease on the planet that they had squandered and left in ruins.

The sharp sting on her palms pulled Hope from her dark thoughts, as she glanced down at her hands. She had clenched them into tight fists, her nails digging into the soft skin of her palms. Oh gods, what was she _thinking_?

She didn't truly believe that, not for a second. Humanity was a beautiful, fragile thing that was full of potential. They were worth saving. If she didn't believe that then she wouldn't be here, wouldn't have risked life and limb to get back to this place, to this time when the world had still been whole. This time when humanity still covered the world like a blanket of bright lights, each little sparkling dot a soul shining brightly.

'Ugh, here we go,' her companion snarked.

Turning her head round, Hope glared at the older man still lounging in the chair, a bored look on his face as he inspected his blunt nails. Without thinking, she stormed across the space between them, her footsteps echoing loudly. Slamming her hands down on the arms of the chair, Hope leaned in, breathing deeply as he flicked his dull, blue eyes up to hers, the anger clear in her voice as she forced out her words between gritted teeth, 'Shut. Up.'

She stood staring at him, trying to calm her growing emotions before she blew every bulb in the building. She had done it many a time when she had been younger, had even taken out a few windows, and, on one memorable occasion, every piece of glass in a two-block radius. That had been a particularly bad night.

He was watching her patiently, a small smirk quirking his lips. As she watched him, his smile widened, his eyes burning with triumph. Realisation sliced through Hope's anger like an angel blade carving through an angel's grace. Groaning, Hope let her head fall. She had given him exactly what he wanted. He had been looking for a reaction, sticking his knife in and twisting until she could no longer ignore him. He wanted her full attention and would stop at nothing until he had it.

Stupid. She was so stupid for not realising what he had been doing, beforehand. Now he would never shut up. Sighing, Hope pushed herself away from the chair, and its annoying inhabitant, her hands falling to her sides as she took a step backwards, the sound of his mocking laughter ringing in her ears. Turning away from his wide smile, her eyes once again found the limp body of the man she had killed. Another one to add to the long list of souls she had sent on their way long before their time. She was a monster. Even though she tried, she really did. She always sent the human's soul on its way before she got her hands on the thing that had slipped inside the person's body alongside them. But that didn't change the fact that she still killed them.

She killed people to survive. Killed them for power and for the strength she needed to carry out the role that life had given her. She was no better than the things she hunted: a monster.

'You're nothing like them. You are so much…better,' he purred, his voice sending shivers down her spine that would have left her shaking if she wasn't already so cold; as cold as the devil himself.

Ignoring her tormentor as best as she could, Hope clicked her fingers and the blood on the man's clothes and skin disappeared as the wound on his neck healed shut, becoming nothing more than a faded scar. She could still see her palm print on his temple, she hadn't quite figured out how to get rid of those yet but she would, eventually. All she had was time, well, six years to be exact; surely that would be long enough.

Hope made her way back over to the small bathroom without looking at the scowling man in the chair. Keeping one hand on the outside wall, she leaned round the doorframe to pull her jacket off the hook just inside the door. As she pulled back, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that hung above the sink. She had been told once, long ago when she had been young and still enchanted with this time, that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that was true, then there really was no hope for her. Staring at her own eyes, she was greeted with deep, dark pools of nothingness. Oh gods, she truly was a monster. She should be the thing being hunted.

She had done such terrible things, both in her own time and now. She was stained with the blood of thousands, was responsible for so much death and destruction. She had even committed genocide. By now, her soul was probably a rotten, black mess, tainted and twisted beyond recognition. She had done it all to herself and for what? Was humanity really worth the price she had paid?

'No, not really,' his matter of fact voice rang out in the silence.

Her eyes shifted in the mirror until they met cold, blue ones. He stood behind her, his frame blocking the rest of the doorway. He wasn't as tall as her but that didn't matter. His mere presence oozed power, demanded respect, and called everyone's attention towards him. And so what if she was the only one that could see him? She had heard tales of what he had been like when he had walked the Earth and she knew from bitter experience the kind of power he commanded.

She knew the things he could do, had learnt so much from him, so what did that make her? She had been taught how to handle her power by the devil himself, had gone to him willingly too.

'It makes you mine,' he growled, menacingly. Closing her eyes, Hope sighed in resignation.

Hope slipped past him, tugging her jacket on as she walked away. Even though he was a figment of her own broken mind, she still treated him like he was real. Like if she walked into him, she would hit solid flesh and not just pass right through him. She really was crazy.

A low growl sounded behind her and she froze, her posture rigid and eyes wide. She had spent enough time with him to know when she could push her luck and when she should do exactly as he wanted. She didn't hear him move but she felt it when he came up behind her. Close, but not touching, never touching. Hope knew it was impossible, but she could _feel_ his breath hot on her ear, could smell the faint stench of sulphur hidden beneath the distinct smell of earth and ash, her overactive imagination supplied everything needed to make him seem real. Well, real to her anyway.

His voice was low as he spoke, managing to be gentle yet commanding, 'All this bullshit about guilt, about what's right, and for what? For hope, glory, love?'

For what? What had she done it all for? She didn't believe in hope, it might be the name her foolish godfather had given her but it was for the weak-minded and she had no desire, or need, for glory. Maybe she had done it for the sake of humanity, done it to ensure that the world kept on turning as it should? No. She did it for love.

An unrequited love, a love that had no chance of becoming anything more than a hopeless crush on the only person who had been a constant in her life, on the only man that mattered to her, more than anything. Mattered more even than the fate of humanity. She was so silly, stupid even. She had become the worst thing possible, one of the greatest monsters to walk the earth, all because the man she loved had asked it of her. She was a fool. No, she was worse than that, she was a fool in love and she knew, from the books and stories she had read as a child, how that ended and there was no 'happily ever after' at the end.

'This is who you are,' he growled. His words were harsher now, so much conviction behind them that Hope found it impossible to ignore them. To ignore him.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Hope pulled in a ragged breath, her skin tingled where his hands had moved to hover over her shoulders. She could feel her heart pounding in her rib cage, her blood rushing through her ears so loudly that she almost missed his whispered words.

'It doesn't matter if you succeed or fail, you will always end up here, like this, with me,' he whispered seductively in her ear.

Hope tried not to cry, willed her legs not to give out beneath her. The weight of his words felt like a tonne of bricks crashing down on top of her; her fate sealed. She felt like she was back in that field, standing on the edge the precipice and looking down into the swirling portal that led to the Cage, faced with a choice that would either ruin her or make her. With a huff of resignation, Hope gave in, just like she had given in all those years ago.

He was right, he was always right. It didn't matter what she did. Even if she managed to change the world's destined path she was still always going to end up here. Broken, crazy, and alone. It was inevitable really, scrawled so deep into her DNA it was a miracle she hadn't gone entirely off the deep end yet. She was heading that way though; it wouldn't be long until she was locked in a padded cell, rocking herself back and forth, huddled in a corner as she mumbled about demons and deities, about the end of days and failed destinies. Her only company the twisted and grotesque hallucinations of the one person who had promised never to leave her, had promised to stay with her no matter what.

'It's your destiny,' he murmured.

Her _destiny_. Gods, she hated that word. Everyone was always banging on about her damn destiny. How she had to do this and do that: murder these people; save these ones; no, wait, kill those ones too. You have to, it's your destiny. Well, they could all go fuck themselves. Destiny meant nothing to her; it wasn't even an option. She wasn't going to follow some pre-determined plan that had been decided long before she could have a say in it. She wasn't going to become just another compliant character in the _Book of Life_. She was going to write her own story and anyone who got in her way would end up like everyone else that had crossed her or gotten close to her: dead and buried.

Shrugging out of the imaginary hold that her hallucinated Lucifer had on her, Hope stalked towards the door in the far corner, determination evident in the set of her shoulders and the glint in her eyes. Without stopping she shouted back at the man who still stood in the middle of the room, 'You coming?'

She didn't need to see him to know he was smirking triumphantly. It was a redundant question anyway, he would follow her wherever she went; after all, he was a part of her.

'Where we going?' he asked, smugly.

Glancing up at the door, Hope smiled devilishly. He was leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes boring into hers like he could pick every thought from her mind before she even had them, and considering where he came from it was likely he could. Hope stopped just in front of him, leaned forward, and reached round him to grasp the door handle. Looking up at him through long eyelashes, she gave him her best innocent look, one that she had perfected when her age had still been in single digits, her slightly seductive smirk ruining the image slightly.

Staring at her in amusement, Lucifer raised a questioning eyebrow at her. This was an old game of theirs, constantly flitting between flirting and fighting, it's how they functioned.

'To raise a little hell,' she drawled.

With that, she shoved the door open and walked out into the cool night air, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. She had spent too long doing what others told her, being what they wanted her to be. It was time to have a little fun and she knew exactly where to start.


	15. Please

A/N: So here it is the next chapter, it is a long one. As always thank you to Ciar for being my beta. I don't own anything to do with Supernatural though one can wish. So hope you enjoy.

**Please, I Promise I' Will Be Good**

Cutting the engine, Dean looked up at thethe familiar, old house with weary eyes. It had been two days since he had spoken to Bobby, one whole day more than he had assuredtold the older hunter man they would be back by. But Sam had been hurt, his shoulder now ow an ugly mess of jagged stitches,d wrapped in gauzee where Dean had done his best to fix his brother up, and Dean had wanted to make sure Sam'sthe wound wouldn't get infected before they left. DeanHe really didn't fancyfancy the idea of sawing Sam's an infected arm off and he , didn't think Sam would be too happy about it either.

Well, that was what Deanhe was going to tell Bobby anyway, though the truth was a little different.

DeanHe had been worried about Sam, always had been and probably always would be, but as well as being concerned about Sam's injury he was also tired, worn out, and in desperate need of a chance toto unwind. sso he had done the only thing he could with Sam so out of it on painkillers: .

hHe had gone out drinking, to celebrate another 'successful' hunt. Initially, hHe had tried to get Sam to go with him, to unwind a little too, but Sam he had flat out said no and D. Dean hadn't pushed it because he, had seen how exhausted his brother , Sso hDeane had helped Sam into bed and slipped from the room, toldelling himSam to get his beauty sleep while st he could, because he obviously needed it, and then he had tried to slip out the door before Sam reacted. A pillow hit the door with a dull thud as Dean hastily pulled it closed, Sam's well- aimed throw only just missing him.

Sitting alone at a bar had been a strange, somewhat unsettling experience;. HDeane had grown so used to having Sam with him, as welcome company and a restraining influence, that he had drunk more than he usually did these dayswould. He got sSo drunkdrunk, in fact, that he had ended up flirting withchatting up the sort of cute bar tender. Aas she moved around behind the bar, he flashed ing her his best smile every time she passed him a drink and, iand in return, she would gaive him somea coy smiles of her own and a few discreet flashes of him her ample cleavage when every time she bent over to reach bottles on lower shelves.

As the night woreent on, Deanhe got steadily more wasteddrunk, and his ability to make any sort of good decision was well on its way to the next Sstate and waving him goodbye in the rear-view mirror. And that's why he did it:. tToo much whisky, the build-up of months of stress and fear, and no moral compass in the form of Sam to keep him from doing something really, _really _stupid; it was all of that combined with his own amazing talent for fucking things up.

It happened kindedr fast and, really, Dean wasn't entirely sure _how_ it had actually happened. It had been near closing time and the cute bartender had come off shift and asked him to join her for a nightcap. OOne momentinuet he had been leaning over to say something that could be construed as suggestive, flashing her his best reckless grinflashing her his best devil may care, smile and the next he found himself stumbling into a bathroom stall and beingwas backed up against the wallst a bathroom stall, with his pants around his ankles and his dick shoved down the womaen's throat, as she enthusiastically worked her mouth up and down his hard length.

It had been good, in the way that drunken blowjobs can seem like an awesome idea at the time, but, , kind of sloppy but nothing really spectacuafter the initial surprise at finding his dick in someone's mouth, thoughts had been all about He had spent the whole time thinking about Sam. Dean's tired eyes slid closed and he leaned his head back against the wall as he thought about hHow Sam would wrap his large hands around Dean's thighs; . hHow Sam would hum and moan as if Dean's dick was the best- tasting thing in the universe;. hHow Sam would always leave Deanhim wanting more, even when though he was already spent and exhausted;d. hHow Sam just did it better in every way imaginable. It had been to the thoughts of Sam sucking down his cock that had finally gotten him off.

As soon as he had regained some sort of composure, Dean had pulled up his pants and fled the small bathroom, leaving a confused and disappointedmall town bar. The womanen's angry calling after him as he literally ran out of thecries almosthad filled the almost empty bar. The sound of her voice , followeding him as he burst through the doors and ran, weaving drunkenly, to the safety of the Impala.

By the time he made it back to the motel, on thankfully quiet roads and managing to drive without drawing the attention of the cops, Sam was completely out of it, lying sprawled, and snoring, across the bed furthest from the door, just like always. Dean didn't even bother looking at the room's emptyother bed, he simply stripped off his clothes, scrunching up his nose at the lingering as the disgusting smell of sex and cheap whisky assaulted his senses, before he gently peealed back the covers and slipped into the bed next to Sam, wrapping himself tightly around his brother's large frame.

He had fallen asleep like that, face shoved into the crook of Sam's neck -, arm slung over his firm stomach and their legs tangled together -, surrounding himself in his brothers' scent in a vain attempt to mask the stench of his stupid mistake.

The next morning, Dean had allowed Sam to assume that his low mood was solely a result of his killer hangover. During breakfast, Dean had been quiet and unable to eat much, his stomach churning with each flashback from the night before, so the brothers hadn't lingered over their meal and had hit the road early. They'd been driving for an hour or so, when Sam had finally given up on getting Dean to respond to his efforts at conversation and had decided to leave Dean to wallow in his silence. Sighing, Dean turned to look at his sleeping brother. Sam was slumped in the passenger seatchair, head resting against the window, his foreheadeyebrows wrinkled in creasesd. He looked troubled and Dean couldn't help but wonder if Sam had any inkling about knew what Deanhe had done the night before. Sam was very perceptive;, he could read Dean well and, generally, he didn't could tell when Dean had done something he didn't feel proud ofmiss hardly, anything so it wouldn't have been a complete surprise to Dean if Sam he had noticed something, some small minute detail that might later serve to had given Dean away like a flashing neon sign.

Scowling Dean ran a hand over his face and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the overwhelming feeling of guilt that had set in during the last night and refused to let him go since. He had tried telling himself that he didn't necessarily have to shouldn't be feeling guilty about what had happened: as well as being Winchesters, he and Sam, they were brothers, after all so they had never opened up to each other to discuss if what they had with each other was exclusive and, anyway, whatever it was that was going on between them was all kinds of wrong. Like going to Hell wrong, and as the older brotherone, Dean knew he he should be putting his foot down and stopping this, whatever it was, before it got too out of hand.

Their relationship -, Dean cringed at the word being applied to what he was doing with his little brother -, was made up of a handful of basic needs that weren't being barley met out out in the real world, and but that he and Sam had come to realise they could meet for each othergive each other what they needed.

Hell had fucked with both of them in ways that no one else could ever really understand and, if he was being honest with himself - , and it wasn'tnot that he often that he was -, Dean didn't want anyone to understand. Those memories were his and, even though he genuinelyreally wished they weren't, he couldn't imagine forcing them onto someone else.

Dean's time in Hell had been all about breaking his personalitym down and reducing him to his most basic instincts before then rebuilding him againto fit the mould the demons wanted, which meant giving him power over otherspeople, giving him control over their pain and, their suffering and, after enduring so much agony himself, the chance to share his rage with others meant he had liked it, liked it a lot.

When he had finally been dragged out by CasCastiel had finally dragged Dean out of the Pit,, and shoved Dean'shis soul being shoved back into his body, Deanhe had been left with the lingering, shameful, Hell-born desire to control, to crave havinge someone's life in his hands, to be the one who decided what they got, how often they had it, and how much it hurt. But the shame he felt meant that he had worked hard at shovinged it all to the back of his mind, drinking to excess to help him burying it under everything a fog of alcohol, and denial, as well as everything else that had been happening as going onpart of the battle between Heaven and Hell, until he hardly noticed it. And then Sam had gone to hellwillingly jumped into Hell.

Sam's time in the Cage had been very a lot different to Dean's time with Alastair. His brother had been the plaything of two enragedpissed off and powerful archangels and they had spent every second making his brother pay for what he had done to trap them there. , for what_ they_ had done.

Dean didn't really know that much about his brother's time in the Cage, the wall Death had built up around that part of Sam's mind, kepteping the details it all safely locked away so that Sam couldn't remember them and so hehe wouldn't become a babbling, psychotic messs, or, even worse, end up dead.

Sam may not have been able to explicitly remember his time in the Cage, or his time on Earth without a soul, but he was different nowhad come back changed from his time in Hell. He was different now and Dean could only guess what had been done to him to alterchange a parts of him so drastically. LikeHell had driven Dean to craved to control and it had instilled in, Sam a longinged to be controlled; a need, to be manipulated and twisted, forced to do what anothe other wanted until their will became his, but only when it came to sex. Try controlling him aAny other time and Sam was likely to punch you in the face.

Dean had his suspicions about what those two soul- sucking bastards had done to his brother to flip his sexual preference completely on its head, but Dean really didn't want to think about it in detail; it hurt too much to think about Sam being that vulnerable and helpless, and so Dean, wanted could deal with beingto be as unknowing as Sam was.

He didn't want to think about how Sam suddenly liked Dean to give him a little, well a lot, of pain with his pleasure. Didn't want to think about how easily Sam bentded to his commands, his demands of 'you're my bitch, you will take what I give you bitch'. .' Didn't want to think about how easy it had been to make Sam his.

But, above all, Deanhe didn't want to think about how fucked up he clearly was for wanting it in the first place, for enjoyingliking how Sam bent to his every whim or how much he loved having his baby brother's life in his hands.

But, after what Hell had done to them, they were each what the other needed and Deanhe would rather Sam was doing this with him instead of some other guy in a some dingy back room, in some shady club. At least Dean he knew that he would never truly hurt Sam, knew that if Sam told himSam really needed him to stop, he would, no matter what. God, they were fucked up.

Sighing, Dean leaned over and grabbed Sam's good shoulder. Gently Dean shook him gently, calling out as he did. '"Heay, Sammy, time to wakeget up'".

The nickname that he had been using since Sam was still just a baby slipped from Dean's lips easily and left him feeling sick. Sam definitely wasn't a kid anymore and the idea of Sam being his pre-teen self once more was a thought that Dean didn't want to be anywhere near, ever, especially considering what he had just been thinking about moments before.

Sam slowly blinked his eyes open, turning to look at Dean inin a sleepy confused haze. "'Wha?"'

Dean plastered on his best, and hopefully most convincing, smile at Sam's sleepy, half- mumbled words, hoping that a smileit would hide his inner guilt and conflict. "'We're here". ,' he said, jJerking his head towards Bobby'sthe house., Dean let his hands drop from his brother's shoulder. The way Dean felt about himself at the moment, particularly after what he had done the night before, made him He felfeel tlike like he had been touching something fragile, precious, special, something he had no right to be dirtying Sam withwith his tainted and sick self.

Turning his confused eyes towards the house, Sam blinked a few times before he pushed himself up so he was sitting uprightback in the seatthe chair and, groaning as he stretched out his cramped legs as best as the small space would allow, his hands coming up to rub at his face. Dean didn't miss the wince of pain as Sam moved his shoulder, aggravating the recentfresh wound and probably pulling at his stitches. Sam had dosed up on painkillers before they had left the motel, probably taking well over the recommended dose, but there was only so much pillsthey could do and Dean knew, from experience, that they only dulled the pain.

With a huff of resignation, Dean pushed the car door open and slipped out, the gravel crunching under his boots as he moved back so he could shut the door, the old car'sgirls hinges creaking as he swung it closed. Sparing a brief glanceGlance towards the seemingly quiet house, Dean made his way to the trunk, his eyes darting up to the house once moreevery few seconds, briefly, looking for signs of life; th. There weren't any.

Dean yanked the trunk open , and dhis eyes quickly darting back up to the house before he ducked down to rummage through the few bags they each had. Something didn't feel right about Bobby's househt:. Eitverything was too quiette, too still, as if somehow everything had come to a stop. Almost like they had stumbled into a painting.

Fixing his gaze on the front door Dean fixed his gaze on the front door and pulled his weapons bag towards him, yanking the zip down and pulling out his gun from within. Quickly, he checked to make sure it was loaded before slipping it into his waistband at the back of his jeans, the cool metal comfortingprickling against his skin. Just as quickly, he pulled his shirt down, hoping it would hide the obvious lump of the weapon.

DeanHe knew that if Sam had seen him tooling up he would have been anxious about something bad happening to Dean, or Bobby, and Dean didn't want Sam under pressure until his shoulder into one Bbut the way Dean saw it, it didn't hurt to be prepared for the worste., Sand sure, Bobby had checked given Hope out and given her the all clear but they had been wrong in the past, spectacularly wrong actually, and there was just something about Hope Deanher he couldn't place. And there was what had happened to Tad Anderson, Sam had been convinced that Hope had kidnapped the guy and Dean had listened to Sam's very convincing case in favour of treating Hope with caution.

Dean still felt as though he He knew Hope somehowher, felt as if he had met her before, but he was damnedthe hell if he knew where. It didn't help that she knew so much about them him and Sam either, things that Dean had once considered privateet, and hidden from the rest of the world, Sam included. It didn't matter if what she knewit was all from those damn _Supernatural _books, even if that was actually where she got her information from, it was still too much. And then there was the vampire huntfact that the mere thought of her made his nerves twitch, Hope's behaviour had made Dean made him feel like he should have a gun trained on her the whole time they were in the same room. If Sam had once got such strong bad vibes from Hope, Dean would have to trust his brother's instincts and keep on guard around her.

The creak of the passenger door was loud in the silence of the early afternoon, as Sam threw it open, the car visibly lifting slightly as it was freed of Sam's considerable weight. Not that he thought Sam was fat, he was just…big, in every way imaginable and most of it was muscle.

Keeping his eyes down, Dean ignored his brothers approach the best he could, but with every step Sam took closer the gravel crunched under his boots making it impossible to not feel him getting closer, a shiver of guilt rearing its ugly head andanticipation running down Dean's spine with every step, feeling way too much like Sam's fingers ghosting down his back, tracing over the bumps of his spine.

Glaring down at his duffle of dirty laundry, Dean tried to shove his guilty thoughts away. He should have stayed with Sam in the motel room last night, he shouldn't have gone out drinking or flirted with that bartender, he shouldn't have let things get as out of hand as they did, but, then again, he shouldn't want his brother in the hat sort of way he did, his baby brother who he had practically raised;, wwho, at one point, had been closer to being Dean's own kid than their dad's. Dean's stomach churned, that one thought making his guilt about his previous night's actions, and about what he and Sam ever they were doing together, that much worse.

As Sam came to stand next to him, Grabbing his brother's duffle Dean grabbed his brother's duffle and shoved it at himSam as he came to stand next to him, using a little more force than was really necessary, taking his anger at himself out on the one person who cwould probably understand some of what he was going through, if only Dean could bring himself to open uphis trap about his feelings and for once in his life really talk about his feelings.

Sam let out a small gruntoomph as the bag of clothes hit him in the stomach, his large hands darting up to catch it before it fell to the groundfloor. Dean didn't need to see Sam to know that his brothere was staringcowling at him, Dean could feel his younger brother's eyes boring into the back of his neck, but he just couldn't bring himself to turn round and see Sam's obvious confusion tinged with hurt.

Deciding to ignore Sam, Dean lent further into the trunk reaching for his own bag of dirty clothes that had somehow slid to the back. Deep in his heart, DeanHe knew he should talk to Sam,. cConvince him what they were doing was so wrong that not even God would be able to forgive them this, and that Dhean should just go to some fetish club every now and then to work out whatever kind of issues he had, because what they were doing should never have happened and if Dean had been the big brother he was supposed to o f been it wouldn't have., Hhell, if Dean had been the big brother he was supposed to, Sam would never have ended up in the Pit in the first place. But Dean had failed, he hadn't been the brother he was supposed to be and Sam had become the Devil's playt thing, and he and Deanthey had ended up fucking like they were the last two people on Earth, and it was the only thing left worth doing and nothing Deanhe could do now would change that. But Dean didn't think it would matter even if he could go back and change all that, because the words he should really say were stuck in his throat, slowly choking him, and, no matter what he told himself about how much he was fucking up both their lives, he just couldn't get those few words out that would end this crazy and fucked up thing between thempart of their lives.

Dean knew that tThe sad truth was he was sick, sick in mind, body, and soul. He wanted Sam all to himself -, he always had, ever since they were kids and Sam was his responsibility to take care of and to keep safe - but, in addition to having Sam's undivided attention, now Dean liked the fact that Sam was his to do with as he pleased. When they acted on their desires, hHe enjoyed bending the usually stubborn Sam to his will, craved the way Sam he so willingly fell to his knees as soon as Dean so much as glanced significantly at the floor. It didn't matter where they were, whetherif it was the relatively privacy a motel room offered orr if it was a relatively quiet strip of road that Dean had veered off of because he just had to have Sam and couldn't stand to wait however long it would take to find a motel or an abandoned barn. But most of all he loved that he could, for once in his life, give Sam exactly what he wanted, what he neededd., what would keep Sam with him and stop him from ever wanting to leave again. He was being selfish, yeah, hehe wouldn't deny that and he knew everything that huge parts ofabout his and Sam's relationship was seriously wrong and twisted, but, despite all that, he still didn't see himself being brave enough to giveing up Sam, and what they had together,up any time soon, because Dean knew hehe was weak and he just didn't know how he was supposed to kgo oneep going, how he was supposed to carry on breathing without Sam at his side.

Scowling, Dean swung the weapons bag over his shoulder whilest pulling his other bag out of the trunk, He was aware of the fact that h he was spending far too much time in his own head, wallowing in his own twisted thoughts, and it was only making things worse. Lost in his own twisted thoughts Dean slammed the trunk closed with a little more force than necessary. Wincing at the loud slam of metal hitting metal Dean made a mental note to make it up to his baby latte, maybe give her a nice tune up, maybe even a good wash and polish to, if he got the time. He had been neglecting her lately and that just wouldn't do.

He barely even glanced at Sam as he stalked past him, trying to focus his attention completely focused on the house up in front of himin front, thankful for the distraction, and God knew he need a distraction right about now, before he ended up in a shouting match withfucking his brother over the hood of the Impala that might , or worse, breaking Samhim in a way that he Dean wouldn't be able to fix.

There was still no sign of Bobby coming outside to greet them and With every step he took closer to the house, Dean's sense of unease grew with every step he took closer to the , He looked his eyes darting from one side of the yard to the other as found himselfhe slippinged back into hunter mode, not that he was truly ever out of that mindset it that often any more. He didn't know what he would do if something had happened to Bobby while they had been away. Well that wasn't completely true. For one he would cut that bitches head off.

Coming to a s stop at the bottom of the porch steps,airs Dean chanced a quick glance at his brother. Sam was standinghad come to a stop just behind him, looking down at Dean with his dark eyes full of concern andn, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stared down at Dean. In that moment, all Dean wanted was to reach up and pull his brother down into a kiss, to make them both him forget the past 48 hours, hell, to make makeSam him forget the past six years, but right now Dean would settle for just making Samhim smile.

He hadn't even realised he had moved until he felt Sam's skin under his palm, his hand cupping Sam's cheek, the thumb rubbing gently under his brother's eye. Sam leaned into Dean's touch, his movement bringing Dean to his senses, making him r

emember that this wasn't the time or the place: they were standing outside Bobby's house. DeanEyes widening in horror, Dean quickly yanked his hand back quickly, trying to cover his lapse in judgement, but as if he had be burnedh. He didn't miss the look of pain hurt that flashed across Sam's face , or the way Sam seemed to shrink back into himself as if Dean had delivered a physically hurt him blow . Dean cursed his clumsy handling of a tricky situation but to his brother, but surely Sam could understand:. wWhat they were doing was wrong and Dean couldn't stand the thought of what people would do to Sam if they found out.

Glancing Darting his eyes around, to make sure the intimate act hadn't been seen, Dean quickly spunturned and walked brisklyround and bound up the steps onto the porch. He tried to keep his body language calm but his conscience was tearing him a new one for being so stupid: wWhat had he been thinking, touching Sam so openly like that? What if Bobby had seen it that, then what would he have done? Accusations would have been thrown, as well as punches, and, knowing Sam like he did, Dean knew his brother would try and take all the blame, just to ensuresave Dean's safety from prosecution.

Dean often felt like heHe really didn't deserve Sam. Didn't deserve the unconditional love and blind faith Sam he seemed to have for him. And, after his transgression with the bartender the night before, Dean really dDidn't feel like he deserved even the small slivther of happiness that Sam granted him.

Standing in front of Bobby's faded and weathered door, DComing to a stop in front of the faded and weathered door, Dean took a deep breathe in an effort, trying to still his racing thoughtshectic mind. As usual, tThere was too much going on in his head and, like always, Sam was at the forefront, demanding Dean's attention. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it Dean squared his shoulders, h. He needed to have a clear head for whatever was on the other side of the door, wheeather it was a pissed of Bobby who was pissed off because they hadn't called or a dead body. The way Dean's luck had been running lately, it wasn't outside the realms of possibility for them to find the latter option but heDean really hoped it wouldn't be the caseit wasn't the latter, he didn't think he could handle the heartbreak of losing the only other family he had left. Oh God, he needed a drink, he could not be dealing with all this chick- flick crap at the moment.

Taking one last lookglance at his brother, who was still standing at the bottom of the steps looking at Dean dejectedlylike a heart broken puppy, Dean raised his hand to knock on the door. But before his hand could even touch the wood, the door was flung open to show , Bobby standing on the other side looking at the brothers with a disapproving expressioneyes.

Bobby looked exactly the same as he had before they had left, tired and irritable, though a little more dishevelled. His hat trucker cap was askew and his shirt un-tucked with, the buttons in all the wrong holes., The older man'shis face was pale and drawn cheeks were slightly flushed and he was breathing slightly harder than he should have , like he had been running.

If Dean hadn't of known any better he would have thought that Bobby had gotten some, but that wasn't possible. The old man was pretty close to becoming a recluse and he had never been that good at talking to women, not to mention the only person of the opposite sex he had been around in the last few days was Hope and she was young enough to be Bobby's daughter.

As soon as the thought entered his mind Dean couldn't shake it. His eyes widened and he started to feel sick as he was bombarded with images of the young women and the old man doing things that he never wanted to associate with Bobby. It was wrong and nasty and he was going to throw up if he didn't stop thinking about it.

"'Well? You two idjits comin' in or what?"' Bobby barked. The door creaked as Bobby let go of it and moved back into the house, disappearing round a corner and into a room at the end of the corridor. Dean stood there for what felt like hours, staring wide eyed and opened mouthed, his tired mind failing to comprehend exactly what the hell it was that Bobby was angry with him for, this had just seen because that couldn't be right, on no plain of existence could _that_ have happened .

Dean was jogged from his thoughts by Sam placing a large hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to get his attention. Slowly Dean turned to look up at his brother, to seehis eyes still wide with disbelief. Sam was Sam looking down back at him with a weary smile, his eyes searching Dean's for some sort of explanation for why Deanhe's had been acting so strange behaviour the last few days or so. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dean clenched his jawsnapped his mouth shut and, shruggeding out of his brother's grasp. as he determinedly He walked marched into the house quickly,, following Bobby's earlier path into the study;. hHe didn't feel up want to facing Sam's incisive gaze, not until he had had the chance to try and deal with the stupid things his to see how fucked-up, twisted nature made him dodark and twisted he really was.

Bobby looked up, from whatever tbook ome he was poring over, as Dean stroderut into the room., Bobby'shis hacap,t once again, was back in its right place as. hi Bobby's eyes flickered over Dean -, taking in everything about Dean's appearance from the dark circles under his eyes down to the spattering of mud on his boots -, before they darted past him to , giveing Sam the same kind of scrutinyising once over. The Winchestersy had gone through this often enough to recognise the unspoken concern in the older man's eyes.

Turning back to his book, Bobby adjusted his position in his chair, the rustling of the pages turning sounding much far too louder than usual in the quitet room. "'You twoo idjits get lost or somethin'". ?' he asked.

At Bobby's mumbled words filled the room, and Dean felt some of allhis the apprehensiontension slip away. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been expecting something a little more along the lines of a smack to the back of the head. Deciding that the best form of defence was attack, Dean

sSmiled ing widely at Bobby before Dean dumpinged his bag on the floor and flingingung himself at the tatty looking couch in the corner of the room. Instantly, Dean arched forward, his gun digging painfully into his lower back as he tried to find a way to sit that didn't involve the damned thing gouging into his spine. Swinging his legs up, Less painful position achieved, Dean swung his legs up to rested his bootettled feet on the small table in front of him, ignoring Bobby's pointed glare and huff of annoyance.

Flinging an arm over the back of the couch, Dean gestured towards his brother with the other. Sam was still standingtood by the door, moving Dean's bags out of the middle of the doorway and placing them nicely against the wall with his own, always the insufferable neat freak. "

Dean glanced back at Bobby who was obviously waiting for an answer. 'NNah, the princess over there needed his beauty sleep". ,' he drawled.

Sam turned snapped his head round to , glareing at Dean who as he smiled widely in returnat him, giving Sam his best shit eating grin, the one that never failed to get under Sam's skin.

Narrowing his eyes at Dean, Sam straightened up from where he had been bending down to pick up Dean's bag and kicked it, sending it hurtling towards the wall and , hitting it with a dull thud. Flashing Dean a smug smile, Sam took the few steps over to the sofa, dropping his large frame down next to Dean's. His long hair ghosted against Dean's fingers, as he tipped his head back, sending warmthtingles up Dean's arm and down his spine.

Shooting his still smiling younger brother an unimpressed look out the corner of his eyes, Dean turned his attention back to Bobby, who . He had placed the old- looking book back down on the desk and was, staring at them with a fondfound expressionsmile and what seemed like , a knowing glint in his eyes.. Shifting where he sat, Dean's smile wavered slightly, quickly becoming uncomfortable under Bobby's perceptiveall seeing gaze. DeanHe didn't want the nearest thing he had to a father figurehim guessing the truthlooking to deep;, he didn't want Bobby tohim guess atseeing how sick Deanhe really was or how low he had sunk. Dean was convinced that iIt would break the older man's heart if he ever found out how Dean's relationship low Dean had sunkwith Sam had changed. Thankfully, Sam broke the silence, though the line of questioning wasn't really one that Dean wanted to go down.

"'Where's Hope?"' Sam asked, not sounding casual in the least.

Trying his hardest not to groan with exasperation, Dean bit the inside of his lip, tilting his head back so he could look up at the ceiling;. his brother was like a dog with a bone when he got an idea fixed in his head. Right at that moment, DeanHe was too tired tocould really care less where Hope was. , as long as it was far, far away from him She could behe didn't care if she was back down in Texas with a nest of vamps or getting her rocks off in some strip club in Vegas, he just hoped it didn't cause any trouble for him.. As the thought flashed through his mind, something else curled through Deanhim, something almost familiar, that reminded him oflike the time when Sam was sixteen and he had caused Dean so much trouble byhad sneaking uck out of their motel to follow in the age-old Winchester tradition of getting roaring when he was sixteen and gone and got drunk. Dean hadn't known where he was and had spent all night driving round the town they were staying in, trying to find Sam before their Dad got back from his hunt and tanned both their asses, only to arrive back at the motel in the early hours of the morning to find his baby brother slumped against the motel room door, passed out and smelling like a liquor store. That had not been a good night for Dean and, once Sam had woken up from his alcohol-induced stupor, he had made sure Sam's day had been just as bad as Dean's night had been - running five miles, before a hard session of hand to hand training, with a hangover from hell, had worked pretty well in putting Sam off the idea of getting drunk for a long time..

"'Out bBack,' Bobby replied.. 'For some unknown reason, she wanted to talk to you two". .'

Groaning Dean closed slammed his eyes shut in frustration at Bobby's gruff words., Bobby's gruff words echoing around his head. Right up to the point where he had totally screwed Sam over, and not in the good way, Dean's mindhead had been taken up with trying to solve the problem filled with thoughts of _her_. She appeared friendly but she wwas ansuspicious and unknown quantity, and it didn't matter what Bobby said. Until Dean had proof that Hope was entirely on their side and wasn't a threat, he _cwould not_ afford to trust her as far as he could throw her.

In the small part of his mind that didn't want any further trouble piled on his shoulders, hHe had been hoping that Hope would have been long gone by the time they made it back to Bobby's, thinking that maybe she would run for the hills screaming because,. aAfter all, they had kind of er, sort of kidnaped her kidnapped her,and then tied her up, and threatened to do all manner of painful and bloody things to her, well he had;. Sam had suddenly been sportingupporting his usual innocent untilto proven a monster attitude, and when Sam had actually he untied her, Dean had been so close to hitting thumping him, but Sam had a mind of his own and he had a habit of proving it, every opportunity he got.

Dean on the other hand was completely the opposite. Everyone was guilty or something, even if they had supposedly been proven innocent. And yeah, he knew him and Sam had a nasty habit of getting to attached to the people they tried to help but he wasn't stupid enough to let people get to close, didn't let them know anything but what was strictly necessary.

Sam shifted next to him on the couch, leaning forward and pulling his hair from between Dean's fingers. DeanHe hadn't even noticed that he had been playing with his brother's hair, twirling the silky strands at the nape of Sam's neck around his fingers. Turning his head slightly, Dean watched his brother as Sam leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at Bobby with a questioning expressioneyes, but Dean could see the small glimmer of interest underneath, sparkling in Sam's his eyes.

Dean wasn't the jealous type, at least he , refused to let himself be that way, and any way he frequently told himself that he had no reason to be becausee. Sam was his., Sam belonged to him _and _ he was Dean's brother,and no big- breasted, smug, reckless little girl was ever going to change that, not without one hell of a fight. As soon as the darker, angrier thoughts entered his mind Dean tried to slammed down on themit, feeling sick at experiencing that domineering and controlling part of very idea. As much as he was possessive of Sam, Dean knew Sam wasn't hisa possession, he wasn't Dean'shis to own and play with as he pleased:. Sam was a person, his little brother, someone Dean shouldto protectcherish and love. And the more often that and the sooner Dean remembered could remember that, the better off they would both be.

But, lately, it didn't seem to matter what he did, or how many times he told himself the same thing over and over again, Deanhe couldn't shake the thought of how goodpretty Sam looked when he was kneeling at Dean's feet, bound and blindfolded, and completely at Dean'shis mercy. He cCouldn't forget the feeling of power, and the need to claim and possess, love that would take hold of him until they were both just a panting mess of tangled limbs and all that was left was an overwhelming feeling of love and the knowledge that he was loved back just as fiercely. Yes, Sam loved him back but iIt didn't stop all of it it all from being wrong though.

"'So, I hear you got felt up by a werewolf". .'

Dean's head swungsnapped roundto face at the source of the already familiar, cheerful voice, his pulse quickening as his fingers twitched, his body wanting to react to something that could be threat ready to go for his gun.

Hope was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, shirtsleeves rolled up to exposeing tanned skin and the hint of deep black ink just visible along the top of her wrist. Her green green eyes were sparkling with amusement, an easy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. To Dean's eyes, sShe looked far too smug and all Dean he really wanted was to smack rub that expressionit off her face:. iIt looked ugly and false. and Dean couldn't explain it how he knew she was putting on a front but he couldn't stand the thought of her having to use a front like thathiding something from them, and all and all that did was piss him off more, because he knew he shouldn't give a damn about her;, she _may_ have saved their lives (the jury was still out on that one) but she was nothing to him.

Glaring at her, Dean shifted in his seat untill he was sitting up straight. He let his , feet falling to the floor with a dull thud.

"'No need tfor you to sound so happy about it". ,' he responded, brusquely. He knew hisDean's words were harsh and rude, and he could see, a biting edge lacing them. Bobby was scowling at him and Sam 's head had snapped to the side so he could glaringe at himDean with a murderous glint in his eyes , but not Hope . She did nothing;, didn't blink, didn't even acknowledge that Dean had even said anything.

Still smiling, Hope pushed herself away from the door and stalked across the room, her eyes lingering on Sam as she passed, losing some of hardness as they softened slightly, affection flittering around the edges.

Dean continued to glare at her, refusing to take his eyes off the womaen as she moved across the room.

"'Stings like a bitch, right". ,' she said, as sIt wasn't a question.

She came to a stop in front of Bobby's desk, bracing her hands against the edge as she leaned back. SheHope smiled easily, almost charmingly, and once again all Dean wanted was to punch her, punch the arrogance right out of her.

"'ThatIt only lasts a week or so,' she continued, 'and then it just itches like a bitch for a couple of weeks". .' HerHope's smile faltered for just a second, sadness briefly showingflashing in her behind her green eyes,. bBut as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, and she was once again all all smug smiles and knowing lookseyes.

At some point, Sam had stopped glaring at Dean for his rudeness and had turned to look at Hope, his brow creased in thought. Dean knew that look;. Sam had dused to goetten it all the time when he was younger, looking down at all the pieces of a puzzle spread out on the carpet of whatever dive they were in that week, trying to figure out what went where. SamHe was looking at Hope the exact same way, like she was a puzzle made up of odd shapes and miss matched sizes. Dean could see thatand Sam felt hehe was going to enjoy figuring out where all the pieces went and Dean couldn't have that. He cCouldn't stand the thought of Sam wanting to get that close to this womaen, this dubious stranger who had burst into their lives with no explanation.

"'Spoken like a bitch who knows". ,' Dean threw back at her.

Sam 's head turned snapped to look at Dean round as soon as the bitter- sounding words left Dean's lips; Sam's, eyes wide as he looked at his brother within . Dean knew he was being nasty mean and childish towards this womaen, this women who had saved his and Sam's lives, but he wouldn't, couldn't take a risk on jjust let trusting her without proof in. Dean and Sam had taken people at face value in the past (that bitch Ruby being one of them) and it had turned out to be a huge mistake. Dean couldn't take the chance it would happen again, not now that Sam finally had his soul back and seemed to be recovering from his time in Hell. Dean had to stay strong and vigilant to protect Sam, and that meant heHe couldn't really let himself be vulnerable with anyoneanyone in, not truly, and that included Sam., Which was and wasn't that a sad thought; h. He couldn't even let his own brother, his lover, his only real friend know him completely because he was terrified of what would happen if Sam knew everything. Dean He didn't want what they had to change; they had averted the Apocalypse, fought off the Archangel bastards that wanted to use them as puppets, and they had managed to salvage something from the wreck their relationship had been after Sam had been released from the Cage., After all they'd been through, Sam needed Dean to be strong for him, so Dean didn't want Sam looking at him with pity, or worse, disgust. He just didn't think that he could live through Sam rejecting him for being pathetic and weak againthat, like he had two years ago, so Deanhe made sure to always keep Sam a few steps back, a little in the dark. Man he was so screwed up.

Hope didn't batter an eyelid at the insult, just brushing it off with a simple shrug of her shoulders. Leaning forward, shHope casually started to unbutton her shirt, her hands steady and methodical, her smile long gone and eyes cold. Dean's eyes widened in confusion in horror, the demand to know what the hell she was doing on the tip of his tongue, but as more of her tanned skin started to show the words died in his throat.

Her skin was covered in scars:. jJagged and straight lines of all different sizes, half-f formed symbols and twisted lettering. They all stood out against her skin, each one demanding his attention before another one was exposed and his eyes darted across to it. As more were exposed, Dean couldn't supresssuppress the surprise and disbelief that welled up inside of him. How had he not noticed them before, at the club, when she had had all that skin on display? He hadn't seen any of them, not even a hint of marked skin and though he was loathed to admit it, he had stared at her a lot that night.

Sam gasped next to him, no doubt probably heading down the same line of thought as Dean was. The Winchesters hady had gone through a lot in their lives, and evidence of ita lot of that had ended up mapped out on their skin, but they had both been brought back from the dead, their physical appearances as perfect as they could be. And, in the last two years, then they had had Castiel on hand top of that to heal any debilitating wounds they asked him to. It was clear to see that Hope had been through a lot too, it was _really_ clear to see that, and briefly, Dean wondered if that was how he and Sam would look without angelicif the angels hadn't interventioned.

Hope stopped unbuttoning her shirt, just above her navel, her black bra visible and contrastedstanding strongly out against the pale blue of her shirt. Quickly, she ghosted her fingers back up her top, her fingersto curling around her collar and tugging it aside and down, exposing her right shoulder.

Four long, thick, jagged scars ran from one side of her shoulder and down towards the middle of her backchest. A smaller fifth one started about half way down the others, grazing over her collar bone. The scarsy stood out against her golden skin, all pink and puckered, shinning slightly in the light as if they were new. As Dean stared, all he could think of was that, one day, when they healed Sam's new scarsrs would look like that.

Dean had been the one who had stitched Sam up, had spent well over an hour concentrating on that one stretch of skin, cleaning away the blood and then tugging the needle through ripped flesh, pulling the sides of the deep claw marks back together to make the scars as slim as possible. He was always the one who stitched Sam back together again and he would continue to do it for as long as he drew breath.. "

Hope finally responded to Dean's insult, 'I suppose you could say that". .'

Her Hope's sombre voice pulled Dean from his memories of stitching Sam's woundsthoughts, his eyes followeding her movements as she pulled her shirt back over her shoulder and hastily did the buttons back up, her eyes cast down and pointedly avoiding everyone else. The room was silent,, all three menevery one watching Hope. The air was thick with tension and Dean didn't know what to do. He could tell that Sam was shooting him these little half- glares out the corner of his eyes, trying to will Dean to apologise, and Deanhe knew that he probably should, should do something, but what?

What could he possibly do to make any of this better? You didn't get into this life without knowing what could possibly happen , what could be done to you at any given moment. Scars were just part of the job, he and Sam had just been lucky that they had had an angel onat their side, willing to patch them up if they needed it.

"'You wanted to talk?"' he said, sSlumping back into the chair as heDean looked pointedly at Hope, levelling her with a sharp and unimpressed gaze. He hadn't meant to say it like thatthat but he was always running his mouth before he thought, so why should now be any different?

"'Dean!"' Sam hissed at him, low and threatening, tinged with anger.

and Ifif Dean bothered to really pay attention he would probably say Sam was embarrassedment tooas well. Once they were alone, Dean knew Sam would rip into him, yelling and screaming, calling Dean out for being a dick for no apparent reason, and what would Dean say to him in response? _Sorry Sammy but your girlfriend gives me the creeps along with a major case of déjà vu_. Yeah, that wouldn't go down well. Dean

He couldn't see that being a fun conversation, plus it had far too much potential for Sam to turn it into a chick flick sharing and caring moment - and Dean really couldn't have that right now, he had too much guilt riding near the surface and he didn't want to take the chance that he might expose how he felt to Sam. Dean couldn't take the risk that Sam might find out about the woman Dean had screwed around with -. He Dean hated emotional moments like that, he could never seem to get the right words out until it was too late, if he even managed to get them out at all. He had either learned, too well, how to repress from his father or he just wasn't made that way;, he couldn't open up like Sam, not unless he was drunk to the point where his words slurred and he could hardly stand and his words slurred. And But that hadn't happened in years, his alcohol tolerance levels were so high now that he could drink a whole bottle of whisky without getting so much as a a real .

"'It's okay, Sam". .'

Hope's voice was gentle, her smile soft and understanding, but as her eyes briefly flickered from Sam towards him, Dean he caught a glimpse of something, a knowing glint before she moved her gaze back to Sam and her eyes softened once more.

Glancing behind Hope, Dean sought out Bobby, hoping to get a glimpse of what the older man was thinking but Bobbymight be going on simply . The old man looked tired, his mouth set in a grim line as he looked back at Dean with disapproval. Dean was caught by the expression in Bobby'sin his sad eyes, it made him feel worried againtrapped, suddenly, with the knowledge that somehow Bobby might knoew, knoew what Dean was doing and, why he was doing it. Bobby wasn't stupid and he could guess thatknew everything Dean had ever done toworked hard to keep people out, to trapping himself behind an emotional wall just like John Winchester had, ten feet tall and never ending and Dean could see how much it hurt Bobby to see the kind of man Dean had become.

Unable to take the intensity of emotion in Bobby's eyes, Dean darted his gaze over to the bookcase behind him, not really seeing any of the titles of the books. He felt empty, used up, and tired; . aAnger and frustrationand hate were gnawing away at hims tired mind as he started, to once e again, to lose himself in his mind, a place he never wanted to findnever enjoyed spending time himself in. After his thirty years in the Pit, Dean's mind had many shadowy corners,It was full of darkness and hate and , all the bad things that he had ever done, had ever dared to think of. The darkness It lingered there, haunting him, tTwisting and tormenting him, constantly reminding him tof the fact that he was nothing more than really a broken, pathetic mess.

Hope's voice broke through Dean's thoughts. "'Bobby found a hunt". .'

Glancing towards the desk,Darting his eyes back Dean got a quick glimpse of Bobby as he shifted in his chair, an uneasy look on the man's his face as he pulled his cap hat down, casting his face in shadows before they settled on Hope.

Hope had folded her arms over her chest,chest; her back rigidged and head held high, her eyes fixed on Dean. On the surface, she looked calm, slightly cold even, but underneath heDean could see the suspicion glinting in her eyes. He cCould also see the stain of the hard and ugly life she had lived visible underneath all theher false bravado, she couldn't completely hidecould see the damage a hunter's life had done to her. It was exactly the same thing he saw every time he looked in a mirror.

"'Yeah?"' Sam asked, his Sam's obvious interest was enough to claw back Dean's attention. Sam had always been too inquisitive for his own good, and things hadn't changed much the older he got. It was , just that the things he became interested in now were a hundred times more likely to end up getting him killed and Dean wasn't convinced didn't think that Hope would be the an exception to that rule.

Dean needed more information. "'Where?"' heDean growled out the question, eyes narrowing as he returned Hope's cold stareglared at Hope.

She matched his glare, as she answered, both of them trying to stare the other down, neither one of them wavering,. "'Springfield, Illinois". .' Hope She raised an eyebrow at him in change as she spoke, smirking slightly like she knew knew Dean would take the job, no matter what he thought of her.

Grunting, Dean settled back into the seatchair, once again throwing his arm over the back of the sofa. Absently, hHis hand returned to its former position and hee ran his fingers lazily through the soft hair at the nape of Sam's neck, the feel of the silky strands slipping through his callused fingers and t, the familiarity of the act calming him oin a visceral levelway that he didn't understand.

When Dean failed to respond, Hope continued with her explanation. "'There' have been a few odd incidents theresistent over the last few weeks". .' Herope's smirksmile faltereded slightly as she spoke.

"'Odd how?"' Dean responded brusquely. Wwatchinged, out of the corner of his eye as Sam slammed his pursed his lips together tightlymouth closed, Dean's abrupt question cutting off whatever he had been about to say. Keeping his eyes on Hope, Dean watched out the corner of his eyes asfelt, rather than saw, Sam turn his headed to stare at him, to looking at Dean, Sam's expression and body language showing his frustration and confusion. n as if he had just admitted that he liked to wear ladies underwear.

Turning his head so he could look at Sam, they stared at one another, the edisbelief motion in Sam's eyes so obvious that Dean was surprised it his younger brother wasn't smacking him around the facedragging him out of the room for one of their intense 'discussions' about Dean's rude behaviour.

"'What?"' he challenged.

Sam shook his head, frowning at Dean as he turned back to Hope, waiting for her answer. Though Sam definitelyhe didn't approve of the way Dean had spoken to the young woman, asked hee wasn't about to try and get Dean to take it back, and, frankly, he wanted to know as much as Dean did.

Turning back to Hope, Dean couldn't help but watch as Bobby shook his head, staring down at his book as he continued to read, giving the impression that he was trying his best tomostly stay out of ignoring what was going on around him. Dean knew then that, whatever Hope was about to say, Bobby knew everything already, and he, apparently, obviously didn't have a problem with it or they wouldn't be having this conversation.

Feeling like the older hunter man had just helped to set them up. Dean turned to lookglare at Hope expectantly, he waiting for her to answer his question, well demand actually, but none the less, he still wanted better answers from her and he was more than willing to pull the teeth from her skull to get he was willing to commit his and Sam's help on the proposed hunt.

AnotherHope's eyes widened, her mouth hung open slightly in shock, but as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, her smug smile tugged ing at heHope'sr lips as her body rigid frame relaxed once again, oozing the confidentarrogance and an annoying carefree attitudee that Dean had come to think as normal for the young womaen:, once again hiding behind theher façade that she showed the world, just like Dean.

"'Oh, I don't know,' she drawled, 'is a teacher turning up crucified to his classroom wall with three ball-point pens odd enough for you? Or maybe the cheerleader who broke both her legs while_st_ standing at the _top_ of the pyramid, or even the quarterback who went from looking like Captain America to looking like Steve Rogers overnight". .' Hope's voice had got harsher as she spoke, her jaw set as she glared down at Dean.

Fighting the urge to sneer, and refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing that she was getting to him, Dean beamed up at her, instinctively resorting to his old tricks when he didn't quite know what he should be doing. But hHe knew what he wanted to dohow he felt;. hHe wanted to send thise girl packing because he couldn't didn't understand get a handle on her, or her motives, and itthat just made him nervous.

Clapping, Dean rubbed his hands together,together; leaning forward in his chair as he made to get up, glad to have the annoying pressure of his gun digging into his spine momentarily gone again momentarily. Keeping his voice as light, and as cheery, as he could manage, Dean waved his hand in the gesturedair, as he spoke, his eyes glancingdarted around at the room's occupants. "'Greaate,. weWe'l canl take a look at that but, first, Sammy here needs some rest and I have _got_ to eat something other than…"'

"'I want to go with you". .'

The remainderst of his intended little rantwords died on Dean's lips as Hope's softly spoken words statement cut through his speechlittle speech. The tension in the room increased in the ensuing silence. , the words sounding like she had screamed them into the room. Dean didn't know how to respond, he hwhat to say, hadn't been expecting that she would want to work a job with him and Sammy, he really hadn't been expecting her to be here at Bobby'sthere at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby shift in his chair, pulling his hat downcrouching down farther over his book further as he purposely avoided Dean's searching questioning gaze. Dean was convinced that BobbyHe had known all along what Hope was going to ask., He was convinced that, while he and Sam were away, Bobby and Hopethey had probably had a good old chat about thingsit. , and fIfor Bobby to bewas allowing her to be asking this of him and Samthem, knowing how that Dean felt about herdidn't entirely trust her, and knowing that Dean preferred not to get involved with other hunters about letting others into his life in general,. Dean couldn't lie,lie; it felt a lot like betrayal.

"'You what?"' Dean asked, making no effort to hide the aggression in his tone in disbelief, not wanting to believe what she had said.

Pushing herself away from the desk, Hope looked directly at him, straightening so she was at her full height. "'I want to come with you, on the hunt". .'

Dean's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, in anger couldn't do anything more than sit there and stare at her, his mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief.

She could not be serious, could she? How could she possibly Why the hell would she want to spend an unknown amount of time with the men who she knew didn't trust her and who had dragged her to South Dakota against her willm? Dean could not understand wEspecially considering how they had treated her, but better yet, what had givenave her the impression that he Dean was going to say yes to hunting with her? Right now, iIf he had his way, they would dump her along some abandoned roadin the nearest town and tell her to take a hike. He definitely didn't want her around, didn't want to spend any more time with her thant was absolutely necessary, and as far as he saw it, the last twenty minutes really weren'thadn't been.

Hope took a step towards the couch. "'I _know_ you don't really know me, but I'm a good hunter. I'm quick and, I know I don't look it, but I can hold my own.' She looked at Sam, addressing her next words to him rather than Dean, ' And…I mean you're_ The_ Winchesters and there is so much you could teach me and I _promise_ I won't get in your way. Look, I' have evenalready started compiling a case file but I…"'

"'No". .' Dean's rough voice cut through Hope's babblings.,

Hher head snapping back from where it had fallenhead hung, so she was staring at the floor, her body language giving every impression that she felt dejected at Dean's refusal. . Dean heard Bobby's sigh and he turned to see the older man's filled the now quite room, a withered hand coming up to rub at his eyes as he moved to slumped down in his chair.

Hope's looked up, her eyes dartinged from Dean to Sam then back again, her mouth opening and closing a few times, in obvious frustration, as she tried to think of what to say. Dean hoped she just kept her trap shutwas prepared to reject any arguments she could come up and hoped that Sam would feel the same.

"'Please, I…"' Her voice was soft, an edge of pleading to it, her green eyes practically begging him to reconsider.

Glaring, Dean stood up, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. "'No,"' he snarledgrowled out, taking a step forward. As he stepped towards her,forward Hope took a step back, her eyes weary as if she thought Dean was going to hit her. He knew that her reaction the fact that she thought that should worry him, that his actions had left her with thhise first impression that he was had left her thinking of him as violent, that he was as someone you had toit was best to always be a good few feet away from, in caseunless he lostes hism temper and beats someonethem to a bloody mess.

Dean's arm jerked, as his brother's long fingers wrappedt gently around his wrist gently. Sam's The small gesture would normally calm Dean, make the haze of anger clearer and make it easier to think things through, but not today. He was already too far goneDean was overtired, annoyed with being at the beck and call of others, and tired of being in the dark about what was going on.

"'Dean". .' Sam spokewhispered his name softly and Dean felt compelled to couldn't help but turn and look down at his still- seated brother. Sam was looking up at him with a mix of pleading and confusion, a thousand questions that he didn't have the answers to just bubbling under his skin. His brow was creased in confusionuncertainty, head slightly cocked to the side. The gesture looking moreed like it belonged more on Castiel then Sam, but Dean couldn't deny that Sam's behaviour tugged at his heart looked cute.

Sighing, Dean finally began to feellt some of the strong irrational antipathyger, that he had been feeling since he had set eyes on Hope again, just melt awaybegin to subside. Locking his gaze with, trapped in Sam's expressivepuppy dog eyes, Deans. Slowly he began to rubn his thumbfingers over Sam's wrist, twisting his own hand twisted at an awkward angle so he could reach the comfort of his brother's skin.

DeanHe was tiredfelt drained,. exhaustedTired withof this life that had been forced onto them from a young age. Tired He hated the stress of having to hide his and Sammy's relationship with Sam because he was afraidbecause of the fear of what people might happen towould do to Sam if they were ever found out. He was just tired in general;. he felt a strong desire All he wanted was to sink back down onto the old, ratty sofa and pull Sam into his arms., He longed to burry his face in the crook of Sam's neck and let his brother's presence invade his senses, he wanted to let Sam seep into every part of him and for once let Sam be inhim take control -. bBut, ultimately, he knew it wasn't possible. he couldn't do that.

He couldn't let whatever hold this womaen seemed to have over his brother, and, over Bobby even, pull him under. He had to keep driving on, staying strong, and getting her awaySam away from the unknown dangers Hope's presence might bring into their lives., had Dean had his brother back from Lucifer's Cage and he would do whatever he could to protect Sammy from herevil poisoninfluences, whatever the cost.

"'I said no, Sam."'

Sam's eyes widened at Dean's words. Though they were softly spoken they were full of allSam knew his brother well enough to hear the anger and distrust , distrust and distain Dean had for Hope and the ridiotic request she had made. Dean watched as several emotions reflectedflashed inthrough his brothers eyes before settling on silent anger., Sam's his grip on Dean's wrist looseneding before his hand fell away. Sinking back into the chair Sam turned his head away from Dean,Dean; jaw set, his cold eyes refusing to meet Dean's searching gaze.

Sighing, Dean shook his head slightly, turning from his sulkingbrooding brother to once again glare at Hope, all his anger and frustration directed at thise young womaen who seemed to be trying to make Sam disagree with him. On one level, DeanHe knew it was wrong to use her as an outlet for his negative feelingsn outlet, especially considering the fact that not all of his anger was her doing. Sam was sure to give him hell for it latter,r but she was there and Dean he was wound up. Wound up enough to ignore alllook past all the reasons he sthat shouldn't prevent him frombe behavingdoing this way just so he could offunload some of the crap he had buzzing around his head and repress the growing urge tothat didn't involve shoveing Sam over the nearest flat surface and slamming into him dry, just to feel the burn.

"'What makes you think we want you around, huh?"' Dean challenged her, hi's tonewords were bitter as he took another step forward and , Hope once again steppeding back, her buttockships hittingsmacking into the side of Bobby's desk making it impossible for her to go anywhere, unless she was going to bolt for the door and Dean feltwas fine with that:. aAt least she would be gone.

Hope took a breath before starting to respond, "'I…"'

Dean interrupted hercut across Hope once again, her voice soundingsounding small as it trailed off and he slowly made his way towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. 'You think just because you read some books, took on a vampire or two, that makes you a hunter?'

His words echoed around Dean's head, too similar to the ones his dad had said when Dean was 15 and had snuck off to take out a ghost on his own, desperate to prove his was good enough to hunt solo. It hadn't gone quite so well. His Dad had burst in, finding Dean bloody and broken on the floor, the vengeful spirit he had been hunting standing over him with a vicious smile. Dean knew he had been stupid, his inexperience showing that night, and it had almost gotten him killed. He had felt that he deserved his father's disappointment and anger. He hadn't deserved to have Sam curl himself around Dean's bruised and sore body as he tried his hardest not to cry into his baby brother's shirt. Dean had never felt more like he didn't deserve Sam's love.

As Hope stared back at him, it It felt like the rest of the world had stopped for him, disappearing as soon as it was outside hiDean's field of vision. All that was left was himHis entire focus narrowed down to just him, and Hope, and the silent battle that raged inside of him. One part of his mind yside screamingelling at him to make her scared -, do whatever was necessary tmake he go run for her life just to get her to go away -, whilst the other side urgingbegged him to stop, to calm down and reassure Hopetake her in his arms and comfort her that he wasn't a threat to her, promise her the world and make things right once more. He was so confused, soso lost in his own conflicting emotions that it hurt.

"You think just because you have read some books, took on a vampire or two that makes you a hunter." His words echoed around Dean's head, to similar to the ones his dad had said when Dean was 15 and had snuck off to take out a demon on his own, desperate to prove his was good enough to go out on his own. It hadn't gone quite so well.

His dad had burst in, finding Dean bloody and broken on the floor, the demon he had been hunting standing over him with a vicious smile and a bloody knife. He had been stupid, his inexperience show that night and it had almost gotten him killed. He had deserved his father's angry screams and disappointment. He hadn't deserved to have Sam curl himself around Dean's bruised and saw body as he tried his hardest not to cry into his baby brothers shirt. He just didn't deserve Sam in general.

As Dean had had spoken,n something in Hope's demeanour changed, her green eyes darkened, all traces of the stunned and stuttering little girl she had just been, vanishing. Hope pushed herself away from the desk and took a step forward, sneering at Dean. She looked murderousvicious, anger radiating of her so strongly that Dean was sure he could feel it, burning against his exposed skin.

When she spoke, her voice was low, more of a growl, full of anger with just a tinge of distain. "'I have done a _HELL_ of a lot more than just…"'

One again Dean didn't wait for her to finish before he tookcut her off, taking that last step so he was standingto stand directly in front of her, his head tilted back ever so slightly so he could glare back at her. "'You're a child…"' he yelled.

Any normal person would have stopped there, but Dean wasn't normal, not in any universe was he normal. The words just came tumbling out, his anger getting the better of him, just like it always seemed to these days,. "'…and I will not be responsible for what happens to you because you're too damned inexperienced to know the difference between a witch and a demon."'

The room fell into silence, the only sound Dean's heavy breathing sounding louder than it should. As he had shouted at her, spoken he had seenwatched as the anger had fadinged from Hope's burning eyes to be , instead being replaced with hurt. He could see the tears welling up andin her eyes, threatening to spill over. In that moment, he had felt disappointed with himself; dreadful, like athe bully in the playground pointing fun of a girl's glasses and freckles. hHe was being cruel now and for what? He really should be ashamed of himself.

In the next moment it was all changedgone, every emotion disappearinedg from Hope in the blink of heran eyess.

Straightening her back, she tilted her head back slightly, holding it high, her features becoming cold and unreadable. Her body was still tense but it was a different kind of tension, Dean could see the sort of like determination she was feeling.

"'OkayRight, . Well if you're finished, I'll go check oin dinner,."' she stated coolly, before moving squeezing past Dean and With that Hope spun on her heals and calmly walkinged from the room, disappearing around the doorframe with a casual flick of her long hair.

The silence, after that she had left, the room in seemed to drag on forever as . Dean's breathing slowly returned to normal ands his clenched fists slowly uncurled;, his knuckles crackeding as he stretched his fingers out. Taking a deep breath, Dean shoved a shaky hand through his short hair, his hands trembling slightly as theall his excess of adrenalin and anger seemed to leave himdrain out of him.

Why had he said that? The hostile words had just come pouring out of him so easily and he hadn't been able, or wanted, to ble to stop them. He had just been furiousso angry at her, angry that she was still at Bobby'sthere, angry that she had used herself as bait in the huntte with the vampires,. He was angry that she hadwas inserteding herself in their lives, that she had just gotten in a car with them and even angry that she had let Dean push her around but, most of all, he was angry that she wanted to bes a hunter and he couldn't explain why and that scared the hell out of him.

He hardly knew herthis girl, and yet he hated the idea that she was a huntinger and, felt kinder sick at the idea actually and he had no explanation as to why, so, just like everything else he didn't understandthat made him feel uneasy, he treated Hope her with suspicion andnd anger and distrust, and he would continue to do so until he could figure out who Hope Wesson was and why she seemed so determined to be around them.

The sound of wood scraping against wood yanked Dean from his thoughts mind and he turned instantly his head snapped round, to look ateyes locking on Bobby. DeanHe watched silently as Bobby pushed himself from his chair, his lips set in a grim line, his old expression eyes filled with disappointedment; he . Dean couldn't stand ithated Bobby looking at him that way.

"'What?"' Dean snapped without thinking, lashing out becausewhen his self-loathinghatred had started too bubble up again.

"'I love you, boy, but sometimes you can be a damned fool". ,' Bobby said softly.'s

Twords were soft but they cut into Dean's heart like a poisoned blade. The disappointment and heartache lacing every word felteling like an extra weight placed on Dean'supon his shoulders.

With a final shake of his head, Bobby left the room, following Hope towards the kitchen, no doubt going to comfort Hope the only way he knew how, with a bottle of cool beer and some easy conversation.

"'Bobby! Hey, . Bobbyman, c'mon!"' Dean called after him,'s cries but echoed around the room but nothing came of it. Bobby didn't respond orcall back, didn't turn back to see what Dean had to say for himself. He didn't acknowledge Dean at all, but then again Dean didn't make a move to go after the older man,him either. hHe just stood there, unmoving, the words dying on his lips dying off into embarrassed silence.

Dean heard the The springs of the sofa creaked behind him, closely followed by the soft thud of Sam's boots hitting the floor as he took the few steps across the room. As he passed by Dean, Sam knockedslammed his shoulder into Dean's as he passed, causing DeanDean to grunt at the sharp pain inthat shot down his arm, and to stumbleing forward slightly from the force of Sam's blowit.

Turning Dean quickly shot his hand out to grasping his brother's arm and , stopping him from his tracks. Sam turned his head slightly, glaring down at Dean over his shoulder, his dark eyes cold.

"'Sammy". .' His brother's name fell from Dean'shis lips as a desperate plea, that one word holding every ounce of confusion and despair Dean was feeling, begging his younger brother to turn around and just look at him properly. Dean needed Samhim to understand why he was doing thishad acted as he had towards Hope, why he had to get her as far away as possible from them and out of their livesfe but all Sam did was glare at Dean over his shoulderSam seemed unmoved. He and yanked his arm free of Dean's tight gripasp and walked out of, fleeing the room, and leaving Dean behind, alone, just like always.

It wasn't until he heard the stairs had stopped creaking, and a door slammed shut upstairs, that Dean stumbledlurched forward, his hands darting out to support his weight on the edge of Bobby's desk. What was wrong with him? It seemed like all he did these days was push people away because he couldn't trust, couldn't give up controlwas physically unable to trust anyone.

The life he had leadDean's life experiences over the past six years had made him suspicious of otherseveryone, he even had a hard time fully believing in those he held close to his heart: his Dad had made a deal with Azazel,. Sam had chosen Ruby over him, and Bobby had made a deal with Crowley - those choices, from the people he loved most, had left Dean feeling hurt and betrayed and a little less willing to take people on face value. Dean knew that, even though Sam had his soul back, he tooSam was the samemore wary these days about trusting people, except but, if it was necessary, Sam still he couldseemed able to look past the suspicion long enough to find out the truth, to see if they could trust someone or if they had to kick them to the curbgive people a chance to work at earning trust.

and most of the time he was spot on but so was Dean. So, why the hell were here they were, him and Sam,they in the middle of a hunt for Castiel and having incompatiblesuch different reactions to the same potential ally,women? and Dean

He _needed_ to sort this out, he couldn't stand to have lose Sam so angry with him over something as stupidmeaningless as some, persistent, know- it- all, little hunter wannabegirl. Dean knew that if he really wanted to get Sam back on side, he He had to do something, had to open up to Sam and get his brother Sam to understand see why Deanhe was acting the way he was. He had to make this better, however he couldDean knew he couldn't let this disagreement between them fester, trying to track down Castiel's time-jumping bad guy didn't leave them the luxury of engaging in the Winchester family's usual method for getting things worked out between them: they had no time to let themselves spend a few days brooding, and irritating each other, before finally letting it all reach a head that led to shouting and/or punching.

Groaning, Dean pushed away from the desk and wearilyslowly made his way out of from the study and up the stairs, following his brother to his room.

The old floorboards creaked under Dean'shis boots, and every step he took feelting like he had concrete blocks strapped toon his feet. Coming He came to a stop outside the bedroom door furthest along the hall from the stairs and Dean gently placed his hand on the old wooden door.

He knew Sam was in there,there; his brothere had been using the same room at Bobby's ever since he had decided he was too old to share a room with his big brother anymoreDean. Sam had always been a stubborn and independent kid. When they were growing up, Dean had worked out that other families were very different from his and that brothers didn't usually live in each other's pockets the way he and Sam did. Dean hadn't been able to give Sam much but he had always wanted Sam to be as normal as their life allowed, even if it meant forgoing his own wants. It But it had been a sad day for Dean, the day that Sam decided that it wasn't right that he wasalways had to still shareing a room with his big brother, when they visited Bobby, and had demanded his 'own space' as he had called it. Only eEleven years old but completely and already so bitchydetermined to get his own way, Dean really should have known then how much more of a handful of a little bitch Sam would become, but, like theirhis father, Dean he had hopedthought it was a phase that Sam would leave behind a faze.

Theirre ddad had yelled at Sam, told him he would take what he was given and damned well like it, but later that night, after Johndad had passed out on the couch, Bobby had lead Sam upstairs down the corridor to the small box room and given himSam thehis first room that Samhe could call his own. and Dean had been left behind in the bedroom that had once been his and Sammy's, missing the comforting heat of his little brother curled up against his chest and the reassurance of , knowing Sam was safe was safe as long as Dean was with him. Dean hadn't slept that night b But, the next morning, like always, heDean had put Sam's happiness first and had ruffled the kid's hair and smiled at Sam's delighted reaction to finally getting the chance to sleep in his own room. After that day, Dean, found himself more and more often pretendingpretending to be happy that his little brother was growing up whilelst dreading the day their father would decided that Sam was old enough to put his years' worth of training to good use.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Dean let his hand slide down the door until he hit metal, his fingers wrapping around the handle. Slowly, he pulled the handle down and pushed the door open.

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the wall. He was staring unblinkingly at the faded green and gold striped wallpaper,wallpaper; his shoulders slumped and arms resting on his thighs. He didn't move when Dean entered the room, didn't even acknowledge his brother's presencethat he was there. Dean's stomach clenched with anxiety: Sam giving him the silent treatment meantIt was then that Dean knew he was in more trouble than he had if Sam was giving him the silent treatment.

Taking a step into the small room, Dean pushed the door closed behind him with a soft click. He knew the closed door wouldn't provide that much privacy, especially if Sam worked up a head of steam and started shouting at him, but if he could keep Sam calm then a closed door wouldit would muffle their voices enough that Bobby, and more importaently Hope, wouldn't be able to tell exactly what they were saying.

Stopping at the end of the bed Dean stopped at the end of the bed and rubbed his calloused us hand over his chin, his stubble scratching against his palm as he tried to figure out what he should say to Sam. In hindsighthindsight, he probably should have done thatmade the effort to explain himself before Samhe had even left the study. Now, he was just standing there unprepared and pretty much an easy target for Sam to shoot down with big his fancy words and logic.

Deciding to bite the bullet, Dean dropped his hand back to his side and took a cautious step forward, weary that Sam was a bighuge guy and could still probably punch him in the face even from this distance. Not that Sam would automatically hit him - , Dean was the Winchester who resorted to punching more often than Sam - well, unless Dean said something really stupid then he would probably deserveto deserve it.

"'Sam". .' Dean's quitiete voice sounded strangely loud in the complete silence of Sam's room. filled the small room, Dean was full- on pleading with his brother now but, still, Sam didn't acknowledge him.

Dean tried again. "'Sammy, please. Ccome on, I..."'

"'Don't."' Sam's cold voice was cold as he cut offthrough the beginning of Dean's off the cuff pleaplea.

and instantly his mouth slammed shut, the words dying on his lips. Silently, Dean watched as Sam slumped forward slightly, raiszing a large hand to run through his hair, shoving his bangs out of his eyes only to have themit fall back into place when he let his hand fall back to his knee.

Dean searched his mind for another opening, another line of argument to use to make his case, but, unexpectedly,All of a sudden Sam was pushing himself from the bed, his expression no longer cold butdark eyes burning with angryer as he spun roundmoved to face Dean, pulling himself up to his full height - , probably going for intimidating - but Dean was used to hishow tall his little brother had grown height, and it it didn't fazefluster him anymore.

"'I can't believe you sometimes, Dean". .' Sam's voice was a mix of anger and hurt. 'I mean, I'm trying hard not to take this personally, but the way you're behaving 'round Hope…it's like you don't trust my judgement anymore.'It was then that Dean realised that Sam was taking Dean's distrust of Hope personally, as if Dean was saying he didn't trust Sam's judgment.

Dean could admit to himself that, on oneOn some level, he Dean didn't trust the change in Sam's reactions to Hope because. Sam had proven, over the years, how shit his judgment could be if something evil, especially if it was wearing the face of a pretty girl. Hell, the fact that Samhe had trusted Ruby for as long as he had was proof enough that he could be led astray by someone playing on his white knight feelings for women. B, but, for once, that demonic whore, and Sam's epic period of moment of stupiditygullibility, didn't have anything to do with why Dean was so against his brother's sudden change of heart regarding Hope; . tThis was all Dean.

"'She's too younga kid". .' Dean was the first thing that came to mind and HeDean knew it was a shita weak argument given that , she was only a little year younger than Sam and he most defiantlydefinitely wasn't a kid any more.

Sam's expression and tone showed he was raised an eyebrow at Dean, looking at him as if he had just said he was going to paint the Impala pinkunconvinced. "'She's not that much younger than me, Dean".,' he replied.

Sam wasn't making any attempt to disguise 's voice was getting louder the more Dean pissed him off, the irritation in so clear in his voice and Dean knew, from past experience, that that Dean was surprised he wasn't huffing and growling. tThis argumente day was a long way from being over so Dean guesseandd there was still time for Sam to really lash out at him.

Dean couldn't stop himself from pushing at Sam. "'So?"'

Sam laughed at that, his smile bitter and twisted as he shook his head in disbelief, his hair falling around his eyes.

Anger, never far from the surface these days, once again bubbled up inside of Dean, anger that his own brother didn't seem to be able to trust Dean's instinctsopinion and that felt too much like Sam . dDidn't trust _him_.

"'We don't know her,' Dean pointed outr. 'Don't know anything about her apart from what _we've been toldshe_ told us and who says that's anything like the truth?!"' Dean's voice was louder now was yelling now and he knew it his voice was might beprobably carrying back down the stairs but he couldn't care less. Let Hope hear him, she deserved to know what Dean really thought about her.

Sam didn't respond and theThe small room fell into silence., Dean watched staring at Sam intently, his younger brother's body was trembling as his body shook with a mixture of feelings that Dean couldn't interpretplace, couldn't understand.

It seemed like, ever since they had first meet Hope Wesson, in that motel parking lot in Portland, Deanhe had been in a constant state of confusion, chasing his own shadow as he tried to figure out what was happening and why. He wasn't having much luck in working out what was going on but he was a Winchester, they weren't known for their amazing good fortune.

When Sam finally spoke his tone conveyed the impression that he thought Dean was too stupid to grasp what was going on. "'She saved our lives"., ' he Sam finally spoke his voice had fallen back to its normal level, but the way he spoke, as if Dean was stupid, as if he couldn't quite grasp what was going on, well, it broke Dean's heart. How could Sam think of him like that? Anger boiled in his blood, rolling through his veins like fire. How could Sam think so little of him?

Dean always reacted badly to Sam's patronising voice. "'So'd's Crowley but you're not rolling out the red carpet for him, inviting him to ride shot gun whilest we hunt down his ugly ass cousins". ,' Dean snarled, his Dean's voice was full of anger as he took a step forward, bringing himself closer to his brother.

Sam's eyes widened at Dean's outburst before narrowing. He looked pissed and on some level that made Dean want to gloatsmile, glad that he could still get under his little brother'sSam's skin so well. Ever since they were kids, Sam at his most condescending mMade Deanhim want to shove his brother Sam over his knee,down, bend him over the rickety bed, naked ass in the air so Dean could turn it tan his ass a nice, angry shade of red, with every crack of his hand against the sensitive flesh and, beat the stubborn defiance out of him. Then when Sam had tears in his eyes and was begging for Dean to stop he would get Sam nice and slick and open almost enough, then he would shove inside and make Sam forget everything other than Dean.

Sam huffed in disdain at Dean's statement. "'That's different. HCrowleye's a demon, Hope's..."'

Sam's flippantdismissive tonewords cut through Dean's little fantasy, reminding him that he was supposed to be taking part in this conversationirritated Dean. "'Hope is's what, Sam?"' Dean cut Sam offhe interrupted, before Sam he could get too far into his littlespeech rant, he. Dean didn't want to give Samhim athe chance to try and convince him that having Hope around was the right thing to do.

Sam falteredloundered for a second, his mind trying to supply asome sort of counter argument, but the small hesitation was all Dean needed and he grabbed the opportunity with both hands. "'A week ago, you were sure she was a time- jumping, murderering bitch., Wwhy the sudden change of heart?"'

Sam's reluctant silence gave Dean hope that his brother could be convinced. The brothers had switched to opposite sides of the Hope argument from where they had been the week before. Sam's mouth slammed shut before he opened and closed it once more, doing his best impression of a fish.

Dean couldn't explain why Sam was suddenly so sure that Hope wasn't anythingwas nothing other than what she said she was and it seemed Sam couldn't explain it eithernor could his brother. It was either tThat or he just didn't want to mention his real the reasons why to Dean. As they stood there staringglaring at each other, Dean couldn't help but wonder why Sam would want to keep his motives something like that from himfrom him., Although, if unless Sam'sh behaviour was influenced by his feelinge physically attractedhad the hot's to for Hopeher then Dean could understand why he wouldn't want to say anything. It would be like Bella and Ruby all over again and, as

As soon as thate thought came to him, Dean felt his heart turn to leadstomach clench and , his throat closing up on him. What if Sam had changed his mind because hed likedid like her?

As much as he feared the possibility, Suddenly Dean also needed to know if it was true. He needed to know, if he was was losing Sam to some girl all over again. "'Unless you got a thing for her, Sam… then that would explain a hell of a lot". ,' Dean's growled.

angry cries cut through the silence.

Sam was looking at Deanhim like he didn't know him, like Deanhe was the crazy one. "'What the hell, Dean?"' Sam's outraged and protested, outrage obvious in his body languaginge word s echoed around the room, and his voice once again rising in volume.

Dean tried to staomp down on the strong jealousy he could feel welling up inside of him, tried to push the hurtful thoughts away, but Sam hadn't out right denied it -, he hadn't said no.

Dean dragged his palm across his face in frustration before taooking a step forward as he spoke., He was almost close enough to touch Sam now but he kept his hands curled into tight fists at his side, knowing that if he was to touch Sam now he would probably lose all the fight left in him.

"'Come on, Sam', he said, trying for a more light-hearted, coaxing tone but probably missing it by several miles.. 'Every girl you've have ever liked in the last six years has either died or been a monster of some kind. If you did have the hot's for her at least we wou'ld know she was gonna be one of the two". .'

Dean watched Sam's outrage quickly faded to hurt.

Huffing Sam turned his head to the side, looking away from Dean. It had been a low blow and Dean instantly regretted it. Sam looked bitter and disappointed and hupset and urt and Dean could see the cogs in his brother's head turning, telling himself that he knew as if he knew now what Dean really thought of him. Bbut itthat wasn't true; . Sam just had bad luck with women., Wwell, it was more like he had a thing forwas drawn to bad women bad women and evil just seemed to have a constant hard- on for Sammy, making it impossible for him to actually end up with someone good for him.a nice girl. Even whenWell he had ended up with a nice girl, a real nice one at that,t but once again the bad guys had been behind it all and had made sure that it didn't last long.

"'Well, I'm sorry I couldn't just be a total slut and fuck every womaen who so much as looked at me". ,' Sam spat at him the words out like they were poison in his mouth.,

Tthe 'like you' part was missing but it was clear enough in the way Sam looked at Dean him and instantly Dean's earlier guilt flowed through himstarted to gnaw away at him again.

Sam was right, Deanhe was a slut; he , had proven it less than forty-eight hours ago that by letting that bartender try to fuck him in a public her filthy hands on him. He had let her see something that he only wanted Sam to see, thea vulnerable partside of him that he was only comfortable with Sam seeing.

Taking a deep breath, Dean uncurled his hands and shoved a shaky hand through his short hair as he tried his hardest to make himself calm down, clear his mind, and get back to the point he was trying to make. "'Look, okay…I don't know how you feel abouther but there is something wrong about her Sam, and, . I know her and in all honesty, it's kindaer freaking me out that I didn't see it before and that I don't know where fromthis vibe is coming from now". .' He pitched hisis voice was low and pleading, begging Sam to understand why this was freaking him out so much.

Sam's eyes softened, andthe anger melting away once more as he took a step forward, closing the gap between them. He Sam placed his large hand on Dean's neck, cupping it gently and rubbing his , his thumb rubbing softly against Dean's his jaw and cheek. He was smiling sadly down at Dean and, Dean hated itit.

When Sam spoke, his voice was just as softt, and it madeking Dean want to curl up in his brother's tight embrace and stay there for the rest of his life:, safe and loved but above all, wanted.

"'Dean..."' Sam began.

But asAs Sam said his name something in Dean snapped, desperation flooding in. He needed Sam to see it his way, needed to know that Sam trusted his judgement because if he didn't it was just Dean, alone.

"'Come on, Sammy, you gotta see it man. There is something not right here". ,' he urged,Dean pleadinged with his brother, eyes wide and searching for any signflicker of belief in Sam's face. If Dean he hadn't been looking so closely he would have missed it, the shift in Sam's stance, the way his eyes darted to the side. Dean knew then that Sam felt somethe Sam sort of unease about Hope but that he, the same confusion and distrust as he did. Well almost. Sam wasn't suspicious enough to try and drive her away.

Sighing, Sam let his hand slip from Dean's neck, taking a step back and turning away slightly. It wasn't that far, if Dean wanted he could stretch out and touch Sam, but still, it felt like a chasm between them, stretching on for miles, leaving Dean feeling cold and alone on his side.

Sam shoved his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and sliding his hand back to rub at his neck before he let it fall back to his side. He wouldn't meet Dean's gaze, and he shifted ting slightly so his back was to Dean. Whatever Sam was about to say, Dean knew he wasn't going to like it.

"'I think we should give her a chance". ,' Sam said, quietly.

Dean's eyes widened slightly as Sam's words sank in. He, felteling like someone had just poured molten lead down his throat that and it had turned solid into a cold, solid lump in his stomach.

"'And if it turns out she's a is an untrustworthy, back- stabbing bitch,' Sam continued, 'then we can dump her ass in the middle of bum fuck nowhere". .'

Dean could see iIt was a peace offering, of sorts, a compromise. It was a way for Sam to delve deeper into the mystery that is was Hope Wesson whilest giving Dean the reassurance he needed that, if his gut feeling was right, Sam would be right by him in kicking her to the curbwhen he got the satisfaction of kicking her to the curb. I It was a nice gesture, one Dean was glad Sam had made,of but it didn't change anything.

Setting his shoulders, Dean shifted his stance so he was standing straighter, head held high, going for athe confident look because he knew what he was about to say was going to make things worse again. "'I don't trust her,"' he stated, his words sharp and to the point, full of authority and conviction.

Sam turnedsnapped back to face Dean, round, levelling him Dean with a hard glare. He looked pissed and Dean guessed he had a right to be. He had offered up a solution, a compromise to their problem, and Dean had just shoved it back in his face.

When Sam, next spoke his voice was loud, more of a yell, echoing around the roombitter. "'That's your problem, Dean,' he snarled, 'you don't trust anyone. Hell, I'm surprised you even trust me". .'

Dean flinched at the resentment in Sam's voiceroze as Sam's words sank in.

He didn't trust Sam, not completely anywaytrusted Sam as much as he could, as much as he was able to trust anyone these days. DHean loved him, loved him so much that he would die without him, but after everything they had been through and, the things they had done to each other, he just couldn't let himself trust Sam one-hundred percent, not the way he used to. Dean didn't want to feel them but there There would always be doubtssomething niggling away in the back of his mind, questioning whetherif Sam was telling him everythingbeing 100% truthful , no matter if he forgave his brother or not and he suspected that Sam was exactly the same when it came to trusting Dean. The recent years had taken a heavy toll on the faith they had in each other.

The silence that had fallen over the room sounded deafening after all the shoutingwas oppressive and Dean could see the anger fading from Sam's eyes, steadily being replaced with a mixture of painhurt and realisation at Dean's lack of an immediate response. He had been quite too long.

Dean looked down at the floor before speaking; he couldn't face the thought that Sam would react badly to what he wanted to say. "'You're different,"' heDean said, meekly.

Huffing out a bitter laugh, Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes. He looked hurt, bindignant and unhappyroken hearted but Dean could see the acceptance flash through his eyes like he could understand Dean's distrust, like he deserved it. "'

Really?"' Sam asked, soundinged scepticalincredulous.

and Dean instantly knew he had to fix this because Sam still didn't understand. Dean trusted Sam with his life, his heart, his sanity, what he didn't trust were the people Sam seemed to attract.

Dean took a step forward. "'You're family,."' he said, Dean took a step forward making to reach out and grab Sam's wrist, trying to physically make him understand what he was saying without having to get to into it, but Sam moved back, his jaw set and dark angry eyes boring into his.

Letting his hand fall back to his side, Dean glared at Sam.

Keeping his eyes on his brother Dean flung his hands up, gestureding angrily towards the door behind him. "'You're not Not some devil-spawnsome antichrist, devil spawn running around playing human". .' His yellhe argued, forcefully.

Both he and Sam were echoed around the room, both glaring at the other, bodies tense and breathing deeply, looking at the floor and refusing to look at each other. Dean knew t.

They were seconds away from one of them throwing a punch and for what? Some girl that they didn't know;, someone who wasn't important in any way. He should have made good on his threats and left her on the side of the road,d when he came to in the Impala.i It would have saved them a hell of a lot of trouble.

"'You know, I've been called a lot of things throughout my life but no-one's _never_ called me spawn of the Devilhave I been referred to as the Antichrist". .'

Dean's head whippedsnapped round to face her as soon as he heard Hope's voice filled the air. She was leaning against the doorframe, door wide open. He hadn't even heard the door open, hadn't felt her presence until she had made herself known. Either his skills as a hunter were severely lacking or she was as good as she made out she was, neither one of those options were that appealing.

Hope pushed herself away from the wooden frame, her arms falling from where they had been folded over her chest so she could shove her hands into her pockets. Her shoulders were slumped forward, her head hanging down slightly so she was looking up at them through her eyelashes, her bangs had fallen in front of her face, hiding most of it from view. She looked so small and , fragile, like the slightest wind would knock her downtotally unlike the arrogant, smug persona she has sported earlier that evening.

"'That actually hurt,' she said, 'a lot more than I thought it would". .' Hope's Her voice was soft and , sounding empty and broken. sShe looked dejectedbroken, like she had just lost everything, like she was about to break down and cry until she had nothing left to give. As much as he tried to harden his heart at the sight, Dean hated the sight of a crying woman. He felt uneasy that he hadhad done that to her, had reducedtaken this strong, confself-assured, ident, slightly cocky womaen and reduced her to tearshis shrivelled, shrunken shell.

IFor a briefn that moment,ent he felt like e just wanted to wrap her in his arms and apologisineg for everything he had done, tell her that everything would be fine. He was being a but he squashed down on the instinct, and all because he couldn't understand why he was feeling the way he was. "

'Hope, he didn't me..."' Sam began.

"'What do you what?"' Dean interrupted, cuttingcut Sam off, and snapping at Hope as his conflicting emotions tugged and pulled at himhim in every direction.

Without even looking Hope turned on her heeals and headed back out of the room. , calling over her shoulder as she went. "'Dinner's ready, thought you might want to know". ,' she flung over her shoulder as she walked away.

Sam and DeanThey stood in silence, listening as the old house's floorboards creaked under Hope's footsteps on the stairsand the wind rattled the windowpanes in their frames. Dean's atypical interaction with Hope had unsettled him. He didn't know what he had been expecting, a little resistance maybe or, some fire in her eyes and thata stubbornness that o rivalled Sam's,my but that?, Tthat reaction was not on his list of things to happen. The sound of floorboards groaning beside him had Dean turning to his brother.

Sam was looking at him like he didn't know him, or didn't much like him, and i, like he was a stranger just passing through. It hurt, like Sam had shoved a knife in his heart and was twisting it. DeanHe had never dealt well with rejection from his younger brother and he felt like he wanted to wrap Sam in his arms andfall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, to say offer him anything he he could towanted jus gett to have Sam to stop looking at him like that.

"'Sam I..."' Dean darted forward,. tTrying to grasp his brother but once again Sam slipped away from him, moving towards the door.

"'Just dDon't, Dean". ,' Sam replied.

Dean stood froze where he was, armhand half- raisedisen and , stretching out towards Sam, unable to do anything other than watch as Samhe walked away from him.

Stepping through the doorway, Sam gripped the doorframe, stopping just briefly to turn and look at Dean, his dark eyes cold and distant. "'I can't believe you sometimes". ,' he said.

Dean's hand fell back to his side as Sam finally disappeared from view, his footsteps hardly making a sound as he wentfled back down the stairs.

Dean stood for what felt like agesdays just staring out the open doorway, overwhelming emotionpanic keeping him rooted to the spot. What had he done? One minute he and Sam were as close as they had been in the last few years and the next they were back to how it had been when Dean had found out about Ruby and the demon blood, and all because Dean was emotionally stunted and couldn't quite get pastsed the fact that he thought he rrecognised some girl and he didn't trust her.

Dean had tried, largely unsuccessfully, to tell himself that he He had probably seen her in a bar, or a porno, or something along those lines and that he was blowing this all out of proportion simply just because, these days, he found it idifficult mpossible to believe that people told the truth the first time round.

He needed to fix this,this; he couldn't have Sam hating him. He'd spent a year mourning while Sam was trapped in Lucifer's Cage, promising himself - and God, in case he was listening - that he'd make everything right with Sam again if he could just have him back. Though Dean hated to he would never admit it out loud, he needed his brother and he, didn't think he would be able to carry on without Sam in his life any morewithout him.

Mind made up, and well aware thatof what he needed to do something, Dean darted from the small room and thundered down the stairs,. The floor creaked ominously as he skippinged the last few steps and jumpinged to to the bottom. Still holding onto the banister, Dean swung himself round and headed towards the kitchen, comingskidding to a halt in the doorway. Three sets of eyes stared back at him, watching him as if he was a bomb about to explode.

Coughing once, to try and breaake the tension, Dean straightened his posture before stalking into the room, heading straight to the table, and pulling out the only available chair. and As he looked collapsing into it, at the steaming plate of spaghetti bolognaise in front of him, a. A small grunt came from his left as Bobby adverted his gaze, tucking into his own food as if nothing had happened.

Sheepishly, Dean turned to his right, hoping to catch his brother's eyes but Sam turned away from himavoided him, ignoring Dean 's pleasing gaze as he turned to his right to talk to Hopeconcentrated on eating. Hope, unfortunately, wasn't ignoring Dean and she stared at him intently,Dean, her green eyes boring into his as though, searching for something., digging deep into his soul. As he lookedstared back at her Dean watched the coldness melt from her eyes , and a tentative easy smile tugging at her lips. Dand despite himself, Dean felt a strong compulsion began to smile back, as he began to feeling the angerhate and suspicion, he had felt since that had been coursing through his veins since he had awoken to her driving hisin the Impala, start to lessenfade.

Maybe Sam was right and he He had been too quick to judge Hope, too quick to llashing out at her when, really, really he should have been asking questions., but Tthat was how he had always been;. a tendency to He was always the one to shoot first and ask questions later., Wwhereas Sam always managed to squeeze in a few questions, before any potential shooting,, questions that Dean should know to ask first, and that was why he and Sam made a good team but that's w:hat he had Sam for. SamHe was the planner brains in their two- man operation, the sensible one, well, most of the time., were Dean was more inclined towards taking actionthe braw and sorting out questions afterwards. n, They were the muscle, two sides of the same coin, . The point is they were at their best when they were together, when they worked together, when they trusted one another, and Dean knew now what he had to do to make things right again with Sam.

Sam spoke, breaking Dean's intense train of thought.

"'So you mentioned things happening atwere saying about this school,?"' Sam said, looking at Hope expectantly.

Hope's turned to look athead snapped round as Sam as he spoke, her eyes lingering on Dean for just a moment before Sam got her full attention. Humming in acknowledgment, she quickly shoved a forkful of pastafood into her mouth before she answered. "'

Yeah, Springfield High,' she stated.. 'Everyone who' has had something bad happen to them either attends the school or works there. , Sseems like a good enough place for you guys to start". .' Her ope's eyes shifteding to Dean as she said the last part, giving him a weary look before they darted back to Sam.

DeanHe could see Sam shooting a similarlyhim the same apprehensive look at himout of his eye, as if he was waiting for Dean to start yelling again. When Dean didn't say anythingstayed quiet, Sam turned his attention back to Hope with a soft sigh. DHean could see Sam's jaw twitch, his grip on his silverwarehis cutlery tightening to the point that his, his knuckles turning white. Dean knew that Sam was going towanted to say something and, his lips twitching minutely and he knew whatevercouldn't take the chance that it was would be bitingg , and bitter, and would probably hurt Dean a lot more that Sam would ever realiseknow.

Before Sam could speaksay anything, Dean bit the bullet and shoveding all his pride to one side, and he said the one thing that he had been adamant was never going pass his lips to happen and all to make his Sammy happy,. "'Well, you can check that out when we get there". .'

Bobby's gazehead shot up from where he had been concentrating on his food, a look ofeyes wide with surprise on his face, and who could blame him. To Bobby, Dean realised he He must seem bipolar and, lately, Deanhe sure as hell felt like it;. Htheis constant shift of hisin emotions was going to give him whiplash if he wasn't careful.

Sam's head shot up frohead turned towards Deanm where he had been looking intently at his plate, his eyes narrow with suspiciondark eyes wide and full of shook. Hope's gaze flicked eyes darted between Sam and Dean before settling on Dean, her brow creased in confusion, head tilted to the side slightly. ThDean smirked inwardly; here awkward body language gesture wouldn't seembe amiss on Castiel. and looked natural enough on Hope but it still didn't seem quite right, like a learnt gesture that she had claimed as her own.

Slowly, Hope started to smile, green her expression brighteningyes alight into as she practically vibrated with excitement. Before Dean knew what was really happening, Hope was up and out of her chair, darting round the table to fling her arms around Dean's neck, and hugging him tightly. "'

Thank you, thank you so much,, thank you"' sHope squealedhe said, happily, against his ear.

Shocked into inaction by the woman's uncharacteristic behaviour,Grumbling Dean shrugged her off, trying to ignore the small, pleased sensation flutter in his stomach that he he refused to believe was happiness,felt at her happiness that he had made Hope happy, had her smiling.

He tried to bluster his way through it. "'Yeah, we'll don't get too excited,' he groused, 'you even think of fucking with us and I will leave your sorry ass at the side of the road."' Dean answered gruffly.

Nodding,g vigorously Hope walked backwards from the table for a few steps before turning to head dashed from the room and, muttering about packing and something about research files, bounding up the stairs like as though she thought the Winchesters would leave without her if she weren't ready to go right then and thereChristmas had come early. In that moment, Dean caught a glimpse of what Hope mightust have been like awhen she was a child, when her family had been alivebefore her family had been killed. He felt a moment's empathy with her, a brief connection with her over a safe childhood that hadn't lastedShe had probably been a beautiful, happy child, the way all little girls should be, when they still believed that their dads were all knights in shining armour and the world was as simple as a fairy-tale. Shame it never lasted.

Turning his gaze back from from where he had been staring at the door, Dean saw sought out Sam, Samhis brother looking was staring at him in amazed amusement, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Scowling, Dean squared his shoulders., trying to shrug the nice gesture off, he couldn't be ruining his image after all. "'What?"' he snapped, voice low and gravely impatiently..

Sam's smile widened, raising his hands up slightly in mock surrender as he leant back in his chair. "'Nothin',' he said, ' justit's just, that's quite a sudden change of mind there, De". .'

IIt wasn't a question and Dean wouldn't treat it as one. He had only changed his mind done it to make Sam happy, and they both knew it, so why even bother talking about it?

Picking up his fork, Dean started on his own plate of food, adverting his eyesgaze from Sam's assessing gaze. to stop himself from beaming up at his brother like a raving lunatic. "'Whatever, bitch,"' Dean mumbled at his plate. It was the closest Dean would ever get to an apology and that was okay, he knew Sam understood.

"'Jerk,"' Sam muttered backumbled, smile wide as he went back to eating his . Despite his best efforts, Dean found himself smiling slightly to himself, glad that Sam had accepted his apologyies, even if it meant towing Hope around with themaround some girl for the next few days.

Shoving a forkful of pastabolognaise into his mouth, Dean groaned, chewing quickly and moving to shoveing more another lot into his mouth. "''s good,"' Dean mumbled, around a spicy mouthful of food, not realising how hungry he had been until he had started to eat., Tthe home cooked meal tasteding a thousand times better than the usual crap greasy crap they got when they were on the road.

"'Yeah?"' Sam asked, looked up at him curiously from beneath through his eyelashes as he, much more delicately than Dean had, took a bite out of his own food. Dean hummed his agreement, too busy stuffing his face to actually answer Sam's question.

"'Hope made it". ,' Sam said, grinning.

As soon as the words left Sam's mouth Dean's hand froze, mouth open and fork halfway in. Glancing down at his fork Dean wondered casually, if it would make things worse again with Sam if he let the fork drop and went and threw up in the sink. Just because he had said Hope could come along on the hunt did not mean he trusted her not to poison him, especially after all he'd done to her lately.

Sam was laughing at him;, Dean could see his brother's shoulders shaking as he tried to hide it.

"'She made apple pie as well". ,' Sam added, smugly.

On the other hand, the foodit did taste really good and everyone else had eaten it, Hope included, and they all seemed fine.

Shrugging, Dean shoved more pasta the fork into his mouth. , groaning loudly and slight pornographically as his lips sealed around the metal handle. If the last few hours were anything to go by, then the next few days were going to be emotionally and physically draininghell. The fact that he would have to spend at least thirteen hours trapped in the Impala with Hope made it official, the universe haatted him.

The faint sound of her last few footsteps tailed off,echoed in her ears as Hope gave into her excitement and thought herself into the small room she had claimed as her own, with nothing more than the faint sound of feathers ruffling giving away her impatience.

Smiling brightly, Hope quickly darted over to the bed, bending downreach under the bed to pull out her old duffle before scurrying out from underneath the bed as she practically danced round to the other side of the room. Dumping it on the bed SheHope spun round, yanked impatiently at theing small set of the small set of drawerss open and pulled outing the few clothes she had brought with her from within.

She couldn't believe Dean had agreed to take her along., Wewell, really, that was a lie., Sshe had known he would, eventually. She had just thought it was going towould take a hell of a lot more of prodding from her. During the last few hours, sShe had been able tocould hear his thoughts, so loud and demanding, constantly screaming out and making it hard to concentrate. The strength of theHis warring emotions that drove driving him to lash out in his confusion, as he tried to figure out what to make of her and , how he knew her, had been exhausting for her to manage and experience..

If she could, if she thought he wouldn't refuse to believe her, Hope would tell him, explain everything to him, and, tell him how he knew her but she couldn't. But, as much as she would like to tell him, she couldn'tShe wasn't a take the chanceloud on the and who knew the consequences it mightwould have on the future. And sure, she was here trying to changeing the future, that was why she was here after all but there wereare some events thing that were fixedpredetermined;, they had to happen and they hadve to happen the way they were always meant to. Changing themat could make the world she had left even so much worse than it already was and she just couldn't let that happen.

Zipping her bag closed, Hope bent down to pull her weapons duffle out from under the bed, the contents clattering together asand she dropped it on the bed. Pulling it open, she rifled through it, making sure that everything that should be there was.

She knew she was missing the demon blade, which witch was tapped under the dresser for safety, and her dad's Colt 1911, which she kept was under her pillow. She wasn't expecting trouble on this hunt but if her life had taught her anything, it was to expect the unexpected., Wwell, that and also that the mere mention of the Winchester name seemed to attract trouble but heay, the two kind of went hand in hand.

Pulling her hand out Hope pulled her hands out of the bag, was ready to zip theit bag shut and mojoing the missing weaponry into it when they were getting setready to leave,go but, as she moved, a flash of something silver and glowing caught her eyes. Frowning, Hope slowly started to move the assortment of weapons and ammo boxes out of the way, never taking her eyes, keeping her gaze locked on of the strange unidentified object that seemed to be shimmering and glowing in the dark corner of the bag. Narrowing her eyes, Hope pushed the remaining items out of the way and could finally reached out and lifted the object towards hertouch it.

As soon as her fingers wrapped around the cool metal, it became clearing, seemeding to solidify and the glowing increased to make the surrounding room appear darkeras the room became noticeably darker. Eyes wide with surprise, Hope jerked back, pulling the angelgle- blade with her, the sharp edgesd of the blade digging into her palm. As if she had been burned, Hope dropped the blade onto the bed, her hands shaking as she grabbed the duffelthe bag and flipped it over, the contents clattering as she shook them out onto the bed.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, panic humming through her veins, as she threw thechucked emptythe bag over her shoulder and started to rummage through the assortment of guns, blades, and ammo that now covered the bed. This couldn't be happening, the blade couldn't be acting up like this. Its owner was dead, and his body was a long way away, so why the blade it suddenly decided to start calling out as if he was near was a mystery to her.

Spreading everything out across the quilted bedcover, matrices Hope breathed a sigh of relief as she finally found the long, mahogany box she had been so frantically searching for. Laughing gently, to herself and, a little worriedly,hysterically if she was being honest with herself, her fingers absentmindedly ranunning across the Enochian symbols and sigils that had been burned into the wood to, protecting its contents from all who w should seek it.

With deft fingers Sshe flipped the golden clasp open with deft fingers,, her power humming around her as the spells placed on the box reacted to her touch. Slowly, she opened the lid, nervously hoping that she would find everything still in its right place. If it was then, she was screwed because that would meant she had taken an angel blade from the pompous feather- head she had killed back in Salt Lake City, and she really couldn't rememberhad no memory of doing that. Things weren't good

iIf she was starting to zone out ort, forget things that she really, _really_ should be remembering. thanS she needed to findstart seeing someone, maybe a witch, and get some kind of magical remedy because she couldn't be losing it, not now - , well, not yet any way.

Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she fellalling to her knees with a dull thud, as she found the box empty, the emerald-v velvet lining the only thing inside. Groaning, Hope let her head fall forwardback, resting it against the bed as she gently placed the box on the floor next to her.

How the damned thing had gotten out of its box was beyond her, but, considering it had once belonged to Gabriel, nothing really surprised her. The little shit had probably enchanted it to come and go as it pleased, adding the glow asjust a bit of theatre to remind her that, at least partly, he was still with her.

Reflexively, Hope's fingers curled around the warm metal of the hilt as the sword appeared in her hand, answering her silent call. She Slowly Hope dragged the blade up, until just the tip was resting against the floor and her hand rested ing on the baseend of the hilt. She stared at the blade as she began to twirl it slightly, the light bouncing off the blade and sparkling like a diamond under the Kansas sun; . the instinctive action soothing her mind.

Maybe it had just been her, . mMaybe she was just missing him so much that her subconscious was reaching out to the only thing of his she had. If that was the case, then her subconscious could pack it in right this moment. She didn't need to become more suspicious in the eyes of the Winchesters and the appearance of an angel blade, every time she so much as thought about the archangel, would earn her a one- way ticket back down to Bobby's panic room and she doubted that the next time she would be treated as well as she had been the last time round.

Sighing Hope sighed and used her free hand to pull the mahogany box towards her, making a movinge to put the sword back into it boxstorage place. As her fingers brushed against the velvet, a wave of bone- shattering pain and blinding, white light slammed into her, knocking the breath out of her like a baseball bat to the chest.

Screwing her eyes shut, Hope slumped forward, gasping in agony, the blade clattering to theat floor as her hand shot up to push against her temple, gasping in pain. The fingernails of her free handAs her fingernails scratched at the floor she was assaulted with images of the brothers running through a darkened corridor, Sam screaming out Dean's name, gun fire echoing around her skull, the walls of some unknown place painted red as the smell of blood filled the air around her. Someone was laughing, Dean was crying, and Sam lay bloody and dead on a dirty floor. There was so much pain and anger as that manic laughter echoed around her mind, taunting her, and sending chills down her spine and considering she was running a little on the cold side now, that was definitely something.

As quickly as the vision had started, it was gone, disappearing as if someone had flipped a switch. When she finally managed to focus again, Hope found herself on her back, sprawled out across the floor, her chest heaving as she breathed deeply, gulping down air as if she hadn't taken a breath since the vision had first slammed into her.

Trying to regain some resemblance of composure Hope pushed herself up from the floor, shoving a shaky hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, trying to regain some resemblance of composure. She supposed she should be grateful that this had it happened so soon after she had had drained a demon for dinner, it hardly hurt. If it had been the otherwise than she would probably still be rolling around on the floor, screaming in agony, as she tried to see the events unfolding behind her eyelids, through the feeling of her blood boiling and being stabbed a thousand times over.

As Hope pushed herself up off the floor, she blindly grabbed blindly for the angel blade and its case. Once she was on her feet again, sheHope clicked her fingers, watching as the weapons that had been scattered across the bed vanished and reappeared in the empty duffelbag, that she had thrown on the floor,she had thrown over her shoulder, now lined up neatly next to herthe other bag at the end of the bed.

Shoving the weaponsword back into its box, Hope slammed the lid shut, her magic weaving around the box, and sealing it shut against anyone's touch but her own, before she willed it back into the bag. As she did this, her mind raced with everything she had just seen, trying to picking out important details and paintting a coherent picture of what was waiting for her and the Winchesters in Springfield.

There had been a young girl, hair as red as fire, standing in front of a sign for Springfield High, her white shirt splattered with blood, that Hope had known knew was Sam's, laughing manically. There had been so much blood and Dean had been covered in the stuff as he knelt by Sam's dead body, crying his broken heart out.

Death was waiting for them in Springfield.

Leaning forward, Hope shoved her hand under the pillow and pulled the Colt out, the weight comfortable and familiar as her fingers wrapped around the pearl-handled grip. Holding it out in front of her, Hope pulled the magazine out, checking that it was full before she slipped it back into place and clicked the safety off.

Taking one last look around the room Hope smiled as she took one last look around the room, her , eyes alight with excitement. At least now she knew what was coming and how to use the upcoming tragic eadvents to her advantage.


End file.
